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ISSUED SEMI-MONTHLY NOVEMBER I?! 1891. SUBSCRIPTION PRICE $ 12.00 PER YEAR. 

Er>ien’dat ’^t.Pa(i7Po.sf O/firefr^!iefX’n<f 

. < - 


• "PaU L • 

1){EPRI(;E-K^diuu(c 

M5 9I ^ 


The Idle Moments 

SERIES 

Contains the following Interesting Novels: 

I. The Woman of IcE/by Adolphe Belot. 
11. A Shred of Lace, by Franklyn W. 
Lee. 

III. His Two Loves, by Albert Delpit. 
lY. High Life, by Edouard Cadol. 

V. The Modern Evil,* by Minnie L. 
Armstrong. 

VI. Albany Stark’s Revenge, by Richard 
S. Maurice. 

VH. A Mistaken Identity, by 0. F. G. Day. 
YIII. The Poet Scout, by Capt. Jack 
Crawford. 

IX. Senator Lars Erikson, bv Franklyn 
W. Lee. 

X. The Knights of the Green Cloth, 
by Antonio Scalvini. 

XL Monsieur Bob, b^^ St. George Rath- 
borne. 

IN PRESS. 

XII. The Nameless Castle, b\^ Maurus 
Jokai. 

FOR SALE BY ALL NEWSDEALERS. 


The Price-McGill Company, 

ST. PAUL, MINN. 


Monsieur Bob 


A NOVEL 


ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE 


Author of “Doctor Jack” 



ST. PAUL 

The Price-McGill Company 

X891 


Copyrighted 1891 

BY 

THE PRICE-McGILL COMPANY 


/ 


PRINTED AND PLATED BY 

;THE PRICE-McGILL COMPANY 

8T. PAXTL, VINN. 




BOOK ONE. 


The Fast of Ramadan 

Algiers. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK ONE. 

The Fast of Ramadan in Algiers. 

CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I — The Man from Chicago, 7 

IT — Death to the Woman in the Mosque, - - - - 23 

III— Monsieur Bob’s Double Warning, 38 

IV — The Arabic Conjurer, 53 

V — ‘.‘Double-faced!” 70 

VI — The House in the Rue de I’Arabe, 82 

VII — Bewitched by an Houri, 98 

VIII — At Bay under the Third Arch, 112 

BOOK TWO. 

Planned under ti?e Shadow of the Yataghan. 

I — The Honorable Felix Campertown to the Fore, - - 131 

II — Bob’s Letter, 146 

III— Laying the Wires, 163 

IV— Campertown in the Graveyard on Bouzareah, - - 177 

V — Over the Garden Wall, - - 192 

VI — The Lion in Love, 206 

VII — At the Rising of the Moon, 228 

VHI — What came down the Captain’s Rope Ladder, - - 240 

BOOK THREE. 

Destiny, Written on the Rocks of Vesuvius. 

I — Shackelford at Bay, 253 

II — The Desert Tiger has his Claws Cut, - - - - 263 

III — Afloat on the Blue Sea, - 276 

IV — What Happened in the Bay of Naples, - - - - 294 

V — Hammock Talk, 312 

VI— Deserted at the Crater, 326 

VII — Monsieur Bob accepts a Challenge, 343 

VIII— “All’s Well that Ends Well,” 361 


CHAPTER I. 


THE MAN FROM CHICAGO. 


Algiers — ^the wonder city of the blue Medi- 
terranean ! 

The yearly fast of Ramadan has run its 
course, and will soon be numbered with the 
departed. When the boom of the sunset gun 
rolls over the terraced heights of Mustapha 
Superieur, and echoes along the Yallee des 
Consuls, there will be great joy among the 
devoted Mussulmen, for then begins the feast 
of Bairam, as our Easter follows Lent. 

For . thirty suns every soul of the faithful 
host has daily made a pilgrimage to one of 
the few great mosques that still exist in the 
native quarter of A1 Jezira, the balance hav- 
ing been converted by the French into modern 
buildings or churches. 

In the mosque, during the long fast, all 
social barriers are leveled, and the scene is one 
to keep the looker-on in Algiers spell- bound. 
Jostling each other in their earnest devotions, 
may be seen wild Bedouins from the desert, 

'7 


8 


Monsieur 


ragged Kabyls, whose homes are in themonnt- 
ains, negroes, turbaned Arabs, of stately 
mein, handsome Moorish merchants, and the 
various followers of the great prophet of 
Allah, known as Mohammed, all prostrating 
themselves before the little niche in a corner 
which marks the direction of Mecca. The 
only sound to be heard in this wierd place, 
with its motley congregation of kneeling 
worshipers, is the voice of the mufti, reading 
from the Koran, mingling wild lamentations 
with his words, and swaying his congregation 
as the leader of an orchestra does his players. 

The spectacle is .one never to be forgotten, 
and every stranger in Algiers who looks upon 
the interior of a mosque during these services, 
imagines that he has struck an insane asylum 
at the hour for physical culture — Moor and 
Arab, Soudan negro and mountain Kabyl, 
gaudily dressed Turk and wretched Biskari, 
all kneel and bow and rise again, acting like 
acrobats in the fervor of their singularly silent 
devotion. 

Twenty years ago, had a Christian dog 
ventured into an Algerian mosque he would 
have been murdered, and the place conse- 
crated anew. Nowit is considered no desecra- 
tion for a foreigner to enter any Mohammedan 
Temple, provided he complies with the law of 


Monsieur Bob. § 

the Koran, and leaves his shoes in the court 
outside. 

On this, the last day of the great fast, a few 
Christians have gathered to witness the 
worship of the faithful. It is a sight that 
somehow fascinates the sojourner in the 
quaint city among the African hills, and 
causes him to come again and again, — a spec- 
tacle that must be understood only through 
description by the gentler sex, since a stern 
decree prohibits the presence of a woman in a 
mosque under penalty of death. The little 
group of foreigners consists of Frenchmen, 
Englishmen, Americans, Spaniards and a Ger- 
man, together with several Jews. Apart from 
them may be noticed a single man, leaning 
against the wall, and turning his head in a 
nervous manner every little while. He is no 
Adonis, either in looks or figure — his frame is a 
trifle angular, though to the experienced eye 
it shows wonderful traces of sleeping strength; 
while his countenance is a good, plain, common- 
sense American specimen of physiognomy, 
making up in force what it lacks in masculine 
beauty. 

In a few words. Bob Crane is a man who 
inspires confidence. He has the reputation of 
being somewhat lazy, but good natured. It 
requires a good deal to stir this long-limbed 
pilgrim from Chicago into action ; but if once 


10 


Monsieur Bob. 


fully aroused lie is apt to prove a holy terror 
— at least that is what some of his friends say 
who have seen him get into a difficulty and 
climb out again. 

Monsieur Bob/’ they call him. It is singu- 
lar how a name given in fun will cling to a 
man. Wherever the tall Chicagoan goes that 
cognomen follows, until he is forced to accept 
it as his title, and tack it on his cards. 

To judge from his nervousness on this last 
day of the fast, one would not believe that 
Monsieur Bob could be called lazy. He seems 
wide awake, and as bright as a button. In- 
deed, one would imagine from his corrugat- 
ed brow and quick glances around, that the 
American had something on his mind. 

The innumerable lights make the interior of 
the mosque decidedly brilliant; the parti-col- 
ored garments of the devout worshipers, as 
they arise and prostrate themselves upon the 
soft, sacred carpet; the strange voice of the 
aged mufti, now rising in shrill sentences that 
cause intense animation among the energetic 
followers of Mohammed, and anon falling 
into a soft cadence that sounds like the water 
drifting over a gentle fall,— imagine this com- 
bination, and you have the scene upon which 
Monsieur Bob gazes, occasionally mopping 
his brow convulsively. 

When the services are done, these mixed 


Monsieur Bob. 


11 


worshipers will withdraw to the outer courts, 
where, among the orange trees, are fountains 
of consecrated water, in which they bathe 
face, hands and feet. Then resuming shoes or 
sandals they go their way; the mask of re- 
ligion is dropped ; and if, on the road to his 
mud hut in the mountains, the Kabyl sees a 
chance to rob or murder, he does not hesitate 
any more than would the Bedouin, riding 
toward his tent in the desert; the bastinado 
has few terrors for these wanderers of Algeria. 

While Monsieur Bob stands there so un- 
easily, a man has entered the mosque. He, 
too, is a foreigner; his gray mustache has a 
military twirl to it, and there is a reckless, 
c/ehonnafr appearance in the man that some- 
how marks him as one of those dare-devil free- 
lances to be met with at times, — a soldier 
ready to fight under any flag, so long as he 
convinces himself as to the justness of the 
cause for which he is willing to shed his blood 
if need be. 

These men are American ex-army officers, 
English soldiers, and even French and German 
ex-commanders. They may be found among 
the armies of Turkey, of Egypt, Persia, China 
and the South American republics. To them 
war is a pastime; glory the acme of human 
happiness; and whenever opposing forces 


12 


Monsieur Bob. 


meet in deadly strife these dogs of war rush to 
the scene to offer their services. 

This man stands surveying the scene for a 
short time with a cynical curl to his lip. His 
long experience has taught him what a farce is 
being played before him; that the man who 
worships the most fervently now will, in an 
hour, be cheating his neighbor or beating the 
sultana of his harem. 

With an impatient grunt this veteran soldier 
turns on his heel as though about to quit the 
great mosque. Just then his eyes fall upon 
the tall figure of Monsieur Bob,- and here they 
remain. The soldier shuffles toward the lean- 
ing American as well as the red Turkish slip- 
pers he wears in the mosque will permit. An- 
other minute and he is tapping the other on 
the shoulder, and giving him quite a start, if 
one can judge from the way Bob Crane glances 
around, and the exclamation that escapes him. 

‘‘ Monsieur Bob, for all the world! This is 
indeed a pleasure, my boy. There, don’t 
squeeze my hand, you giant; that grip of 
yours is enough to break every bone in it, and 
I reckon Aleck Shackelford may have use for 
that sword hand again some of these fine 
days.” 

The soldier says this in low tones; they are 
not near the worshipers, and, beyond a few 
frowns from some late arriving Arabs, 


Monsieur Bob. 


13 


wrapped in their bournous, who brush by, no 
one appears to notice them. 

‘‘Captain Aleck, I^m delighted to see you! 
More than once I Ve thought of that adven- 
ture in old Alexandria. We had a close call 
there, I tell you, man ! What brings you to 
Algiers?’^ returns the other, still holding the 
brown hand of the military adventurer. 

Shackelford smiles; he has a pleasant look 
when in good humor. Grizzled old war-dog 
that he is, once let him get on his fighting togs 
and his appearance will scare all the yellow 
curs of Algiers into spasms. 

“The same old story. Bob, — seeking ad- 
venture. This world is growing very hum- 
drum of late. I shall positively die of ennui 
unless something turns up soon, or ship to 
South America, where I learn there are pros- 
pects of war. Just to think, in the last few 
years I have seen only three engagements. 
There vras Plevna, quite a jolly affair ; the 
Dragoman Pass fight, when Alexander got his 
back up, and the bombardment of Alexandria. 
I’m deuced glad to see you. Bob; been think- 
ing of getting up an expedition to visit the in- 
terior of this wonderful country; think we 
might see stirring times, and if we lived to tell 
the tale would have something to talk about. 
What d ’ye say, my dear fellow ? ” 

While the voluble captain babbles on— he is 


14 


Monsieur Bob. 


as fond of talking over his battles as of fight- 
ing them, which is saying a good deal— Mon- 
sieur Bob’s attention seems distracted, for 
he no longer meets Shackelford’s eye, but al- 
lows his gaze to wander around the mosque, a 
fact which even the soldier is bound to notice. 

“ Good Heavens ! Bob, what ails you ? Bad 
news from home, man? No? Poor health? 
Never better? Well, bless you soul! There 
can be but one other explanation to the mys 
tery. Bob Crane, you are in love, sir!” 

The other does not deny the accusation, 
but gives a dreary little smile that fires the 
captain’s very soul by the mystery of its signif- 
icance. 

Great Caesar ! who would have believed it ? 
You who have been through all the capitals of 
Europe and America, and met the beauties of 
the world — you who openly boasted in my 
presence that you had never seen the woman 
you would give a snap of your finger for — ” 

‘‘ Mercy Aleck ! ” 

‘‘You, Bob Crane, the bravest comrade in 
battle, the tenderest nurse in a sick camp — 
that you should come to this miserable town 
of Algiers to make a fool of yourself, and act- 
ually bow down before a woman ! Well, that 
settles it. I was hunting for a man, but now 
I’m bound for Chili tomorrow. I wash my 
hands of you. Bob.” 


Monsieur Bob. 


15 


Evidently Captain Shackelford, old war dog 
that he is, can be classed as something of a 
woman-hater. He may admire, but his busi- 
ness in life is fighting, not making love. 

“I hope you will reconsider that determina- 
tion, Captain. I am in trouble. When I first 
caught sight of your welcome face my heart 
leaped for joy, as I thought heaven had been 
good and sent this old friend to my assistance. 
Now you dash all my hope to the ground by 
informing me that you are about to leave me 
in the lurch. 

^‘God bless you, my boy! In that case I’ll 
postpone my departure a while. If there is 
anything on the tapis whereby this old Arab 
town can be aroused, count Aleck Shackelford 
in.” 

At this Monsieur Bob is seized with a spasm 
of enthusiastic regard, and would clasp the 
brown hand of his soldier friend to express his 
emotions ; but Shackelford has been there be- 
fore, and dexterously avoids punishment by 
coolly folding his arms. 

“That is just like you, old friend, generous 
and bold to a fault. You must hear my story 
at the earliest opportunity,” mutters Bob. 

“What is the matter with the present time ? 

I never believe in procrastination. Come, let’s 
retire to the court, and among the orange trees 
you can entertain me with the yarn. I only 


16 


Monsieur Bob. 


hope it is something beyond the ordinary, 
Bob.” 

He links his arm in that of his companion 
while thus speaking, but the other somehow 
seems loth to depart, a fact that immediately 
arouses the suspicion of the soldier, who can 
see little that is attractive in this place. 

‘‘Deuce take it. Bob, what holds you? One 
would think the old sheik yonder had won you 
over to be a follower of the prophet. Why 
d’ye look around with such uneasiness ! Good 
Heavens! man, I can’t endure a mystery; I’m 
a plain open fighter myself, and if you want 
my assistance the sooner you lift the veil you’ve 
thrown over this, like the foutah of a 
Moorish lady, the better for my peace of 
mind.” 

At this Monsieur Bob arouses himself; 
he gives one last look in the direction of the 
little group of foreigners, and then to the com- 
plete mystification of his comrade, groans. 

“Come,” thinks the doughty captain, as to- 
gether they shuffle toward an exit, “this thing 
has gone deeper than I ever dreamed. Bob 
says he’s in trouble. Poor devil I I never knew 
a man who wasn’t, as soon as he fell in love. 
I wonder if the disease has gone too deep for a 
cure.” 

While the soldier thus meditates andendeav 
ors to recall to mind some case of heroic treat 


Monsieur Bob. 


17 


ment that might be applied to Bob’s condition, 
the^^ pass out of the mosque, and resume their 
own footwear, kept by the Arab who rents the 
pointed slippers near the door. 

The scene in the court is soothing; cool 
shadows lie under the orange trees; the splash 
of fountains murmurs in the air, and there is 
a delightful odor of flowers floating about. In 
the winter time the hills around Algiers are 
fairly covered with masses of nasturtiums and 
kindred plants, which grow wild, many of them 
exhaling a fragrance that is almost intoxicat- 
ing in its powerful sweetness. 

Shackelford endeavors to draw his com- 
panion away, but Bob will only go a short 
distance, and remains where he can watch the 
door of the mosque, through which the faith- 
ful will soon come pouring forth. 

They lean against a white stone, a peculiar 
dome-like little structure such as can be seen 
in every Algerian cenieter3q and occasionally 
in the court of a mosque ; it is the tomb of a 
marabout, or saint, and is supposed to arouse 
feelings of great veneration in the minds of the 
people; but familiarity breeds contempt, and 
the reverence is given more to the living than 
to the dead saint. 

Now, my dear boy, let me hear the dreadful 
story. I suppose its the old tale with varia- 
tions, — I came, I saw, I was conquered. Who 


18 


Monsieur Bob. 


is the guilty party ? Where did you meet her ? 
How did the witch cast her spell over you?’' 

Monsieur Bob is compelled to smile at the 
rough way in which the soldier would draw 
out his secret; no doubt if the circumstances 
demanded it, Captain Shackelford could ex- 
tract teeth, but he would be a clumsy den- 
tist. 

‘‘ Softly, my fine fellow. Such stories are not 
told in a breath, you understand.” 

Spare me any rhapsodies, Bob, I beg; I can 
imagine all that. Stick to stern facts, my boy, 
cold facts. They pay best. Now, there was 
that time a few years back when I accom- 
panied the old Jew, Enoch ben Levi, from his 
lead mines of the Jebel Wanashrees .across the 
plains and mountains to Fez. Facts were 
what saved my life, man. Our camel train 
was attacked by a troop of wild Bedouins 
from the interior; to make a long story short 
they took me prisoner and put me on the rack 
to answer questions ; I told all I knew, and it 
pleased the sheik so that he made me his sec- 
ond in command. If I had lied — ugh ! I often 
imagine how queer it would be to have my 
head hanging from the end of a long pike. 
But this isn’t to the point. I came here to list- 
en to an adventure, not to tell one. Speak 
up, friend Bob ; tell me all about the capitula- 
tion,” 


Monsieur Bob. 


19 


Instead, the other half starts erect in alarm 
as the sonorous voice of the mufti floats from 
the interior of the mosque; he is again indulg- 
ing in wild lamentations and beseeching the 
favor of Allah upon the prostrate host. 

There can be no doubt but that Monsieur 
Bob has some secret cause for uneasiness ; the 
soldier reads this much, but cannot for the life 
of him figure out the explanation. He, too, 
glances toward the exit. Does Monsieur Bob 
expect some fierce Arab chieftain — a hated 
rival perhaps — to come rushing forth in search 
of him, brandishing his yataghan as he pre- 
pares to make crow’s meat of the infidel dog? 
This is the first thought that flies through the 
mind of Shackelford, and he is a trifle nervous 
about an encounter under the shadow of the 
mosque, knowing the nature of the Moors. 

Strangely enough this idea is strengthened 
by what Bob says and does. Turning upon 
the soldier he suddenly asks : 

“Are you armed, old fellow ? ” 

The question almost takes the other’s 
breath awa^q so that he stammers out : 

“Well — er, yes — that is, I never go without 
a little pocket revolver. Twice it has saved 
my life. But why ask such a question. Bob ? 
You surely don’t mean to make war upon the 
people in yonder mosque ! Why, we’d have the 
whole population of old Algiers up in arms in 


20 


Monsieur Bob. 


less than an hour. Good Heavens! man/’ as he 
sees by the look on Bob’s drawn face that his 
shot has hit not far from the bull’s-eye, "‘have 
you gone crazy ? ” 

Monsieur Bob timis and looks his comrade 
squarely in the face for the first time, and it 
can be marked that there is an expression of 
deep anxiety akin to desperation about his 
eyes ; he reminds Shackleford of a man almost 
driven to bay. When he speaks there is the 
trace of a sneer in his voice. 

have always believed you the most reck- 
less dare-devil of my acquaintance, Aleck, and 
yet 3^ou turn pale at the thought of meeting a 
few cowardly Arabs. There is no need of seek- 
ing the interior to find adventure — you can 
have all you want right here.” 

^‘The deuce you say,” mutters the soldier. 

^‘Although you profess to be a woman-hater, 
I have seen you defend a girl in Alexandria 
when an angry crowd wanted to kill her.” 

‘^Bah ! that was nothing.” 

^Ht was the work of a noble heart; you 
don’t hate womankind as much as you pro- 
fess.” 

Well, you see, I had a mother once, and — ” 

“I believe you would stand up in defense of 
a helpless girl again, Aleck Shackelford.” 

‘^No doubt of it, my dear boy, no doubt of 
it,” uneasily. 


MoNSIEtJR J3oB. 


21 


“Yoti may be put to the test sooner than 
you imagine, .my friend*.’’ 

‘‘Ah!” looking around, “I see no sign of 
the lovely female in distress, my Bob.” 

“You have been in Constantinople; tell me, 
have you seen women in the mosques there? ” 

“A strange question. I believe so, but don’t 
remember; you see the Koran don’t recognize 
that a woman has a soul. Besides, they do all 
their fine dressing at home, and look so ugly 
and heathenish on the street, with their faces 
veiled, that the poor creatures have no tempta- 
tion to come out,” comments the practical 
soldier. 

“But here it is entirely different.” 

“Yes, I know. It is death to a woman to 
enter a mosque — I’ve heard that.” 

Monsieur Bob grits his teeth. 

“What would you think of a girl who, in 
disguise, enters yonder mosque, determined to 
see for herself the strange things that take 
place there? ” 

Captain Shackelford starts. 

“I should think she must be a little f— I 
mean,” seeing the strange look on Bob’s face, 
“that she is possessed of considerable grit. 
Look here, man, do you know any girl who 
has been so rash as that? ” 

Monsieur Bob shrugs his broad shoulders and 
groans. 


22 


Monsieur Bob. 


^‘That is what Nina, the girl who has be- 
witched me, has done,’^ he whispers hoarsely. 

‘‘ Confusion take ’em,” mutters the woman- 
hater, ‘‘here’s another man gone wrong.” 


CHAPTER II. 


DEATH TO THE WOMAN IN THE MOSQUE. 


The soldier of fortune does not utter the 
words aloud, for he has a great respect for 
Bob Crane. This, however, does not prevent 
him from puckering his lips up, and emitting a 
peculiar little whistle. 

Bless my soul, old chap, I ^m sorry for you.” 

‘‘Sorry — forme? What in the deuce makes 
you say that, Shackelford ? ” demands Bob. 

“A remark I^d make to any friend of mine 
who got into such hot water,” returns the 
old veteran, with a sad smile. 

“You miserable woman-hater! Well, the 
worst I can wish is that some day even you 
may experience the exquisite delights and keen 
torture of being in love.” 

“Heaven forbid! Sooner than that I’d in- 
vite an Arab to use his yataghan upon me. 
Now, in your case, it seems doubly sad, be- 
cause you have evidently been bewitched by a 
girl of no ordinary caliber.” 

“You shall see her; then let me hear that 

23 


24 


Monsieur Bob. 


you blame me. Nina is one in ten thousand. 
I’ve seen ’em all over the world, but never a 
girl who attracted me as she has done. Hark ! 
what is that ? ” 

“No occasion for alarm, my boy; it’s only . 
an Arab band passing down the street; you 
know the feast begins to-night, and Algiers 
will be like Bedlam let loose. Why, you ’re as 
nervous as a cat, Monsieur Bob ! ” 

“That music is enough to scare one half to 
death,” mutters the man from Chicago. 

There are musicians with cymbals, triangles, 
and rude drums, flutes made from willow 
wands, and several instruments, the nature of 
which is beyond description, as must also be 
the sounds which emanate therefrom. Both 
the foreigners clap their hands to their ears 
until the procession passes in among the nar- 
row streets of the old town on the hills. 

“What a relief,” cries Shackelford, when 
the instruments of torture are swallowed up in 
the walls of Algiers. “Now we can talk again. 
You can tell me all about this wonderful Nina. 
Does she know you are here watching over her, 
and ready to fight all the world if neces 
sary ? ” 

“No, I don’t believe she suspects it. I 
learned the truth from her maid. There is 
much I cannot tell you now. Captain — much 
of m3^stery that will interest you later on. You 


Monsieur Bob. 


25 


have heard of Masta-el-Gaber ? and he pro- 
nounces the singular name in a low voice, as 
though afraid lest the orange trees have ears. 

Shackelford moves a little uneasily, and 
looks into his companion’s face as though he 
can hardly credit his hearing. 

“What do 3^ou know of that terrible man, 
long the dread of every caravan in northern 
Africa? I hope he isn’t mixed up in this 
affair?” 

“That is just it. In good time you shall 
know all. Now you understand why I said I 
had need of your help.” 

“Well, I should think so. I’ve met Musta 
in the desert, and, to make a long storj^ short, 
he’s one of the few men I have no use for.” 

“They say he is no pure Arab.” 

“I believe his father was a Portuguese sail- 
or; at any rate Musta is up in the languages. 
How does he come into this affair?” 

“Patience, my friend; all in good time. 
Come, let us walk to that little knoll on the 
left. We can still watch the exit, and I have 
something to show you, a sight never to be 
forgotten.” 

They walk to the rise of ground indicated ; 
here the trees no longer obstruct the view; 
the mosque is on one side, and over the lower 
part of Algiers the looker-on has a magnifi- 


26 


Monsieur Bob. 


cent survey of the great sea, the undulating 
coast and the harbor before the city. 

It is superb. Shackelford draws in a long 
breath as he gazes upon the blue Mediterra- 
nean, — rivaling the sky itself — the waving 
palms, the quaint Moorish houses on the hill- 
side, and the vessels in the harbor. 

There are French and English men-of-war, 
trade steamers, coasting vessels, yachts, odd, 
picturesque Moorish craft, and small boats 
darting to and fro. Who could gaze upon 
such a scene without experiencing keen pleas- 
ure? 

‘‘Do you see anything there that takes your 
eye. Captain?’^ asks Monsieur Bob, presently. 

“Well, if I am to be particular, there’s the 
jauntiest, sauciest little craft I ever laid eyes 
on, anchored off the bight.” 

“Ah ! yes ; you’d like to cruise in her ? 

“ Tempt me not, old chap ; I haven’t an idea 
who the owner may be. I’ll admit though, it 
would be bliss to have a run in her.” 

Monsieur Bob bends forward and touches 
his companion on the arm. There is a pecul- 
iar smile upon his face that baffles the soldier. 

“Give me your assistance, Shackelford, and, 
if we are successful, I promise you a long 
cruise in that dandy little yacht,” he says. 

“You, Bob ! Does she belong to any one you 
know?” 


Monsieur Bob. 


27 


“I never met her owner face to face, but 
Vyq often seen his counterfeit in a glass. He^s 
a lazy dog, gifted with more than his share of 
this world’s goods gained in lucky speculation 
in Chicago’s wheat pit — ” 

“And they call him Monsieur Bob, — the best 
fellow abroad to-day; the truest friend, the 
most unassuming chap in the world.” 

“Where did you pick up that lovely little 
craft, my boy? She rests my eyes to look at 
her.” 

“Do you remember the Englishman we met 
down around the Pyramids? The queerest 
conglomeration of nonsense and bravery I 
ever saw in my life ; a chap in a plaid suit of 
intense design, loud enough to make a monkey 
laugh, keeping a dozen angry Arabs at bay 
with his revolver, he smoking a cigar as cool 
as the devil, they jabbering like a lot of fiends, 
and clamoring for his blood.” 

“Oh! yes; the Honorable Felix Camper- 
town ; I shall never forget that strange chap 
with the appearance of a fool and the heart of 
a warrior. You bought the yacht from him ?” 

“Yes, when at Naples, little dreaming to 
what use I would put her ere three months 
went b3^ That yacht may yet be the key that 
will unlock this difficulty, and bring me vic- 
tory. Captain, I am in a terrible mess, and I 
depend on 3^ou to help me out. This little 


^8 


Monsijsur Bob. 


difficulty is only one item in tlie whole affair, 
but you understand what terrible consequen- 
ces might follow if these fanatical Moham- 
medans learned that one of the despised sex 
had dared to enter the sacred precincts of this 
particular mosque. I shall not breathe easy 
until she is home again. 

The captain makes no remark upon the 
subject, but he does a heap of thinking. He 
has seen all manner of women in his time, but 
never, he mutely confesses, has he run across 
one who possessed courage enough to attempt 
such a strange and hazardous feat as this. 

Somehow, his interest in the wonderful Nina 
who has carried the heart of Monsieur Bob 
by storm, is aroused, and he secretly con- 
fesses to a desire that he may soon see her, 
little realizing what strange scenes the future 
holds for Monsieur Bob and his friends. 

One last sweeping glance Shackleford takes, 
and sets the picture in his mind forever, the 
little gold-kissed wavelets, the proud, grim war 
vessels, the jauntjv yachts riding at anchor 
and above all the turquoise sky. 

‘‘They come out ; let us draw nearer ; this is 
the critical time,’^ breathes Bob. 

He does not even wait to see whether his 
companion follows, but hurries toward the 
exit through which the motley congregation 
can now be seen pouring. 


Monsieur Bob. 


29 


As he nears the spot the heart of Monsieur 
Bob almost leaps into his throat, for there sud- 
denly arises within the mosque loud shouts; 
pandemonium seems to have broken loose; 
men shriek and jabber in the wild Arab 
tongue; one mass seeks to push out, and 
those who have already sought the open air, 
filled with curiosity endeavor to get in again, 
which conflicting desires cause a blockade un- 
der the arch, where a swarm of Arabs, Moors 
and swarthy Kabyls push and tear and shout 
at the top of their lungs. 

To poor Bob Crane there can be but one ex- 
planation of this fearful commotion — it has 
been discovered that a woman has invaded the 
sacred mosque, and defied the decrees of Allah, 
profaning his temple by her presence. 

In imagination the desperate lover already 
sees his Nina, the rash cause of all this disturb- 
ance, surrounded by the mufti and his bigoted 
followers, eager to tear the fair girl to pieces, 
to bathe their keen cimeters and yataghans in 
her precious blood. The very thought sets the 
man’s heart to beating like a trip-hammer; he 
darts upon the mass of human beings blocked 
at the doorway, but even his strength cannot 
force a passage through the serried ranks. 

As one might toss nine-pins aside this furious 
Chicago giant seizes upon those nearest him 
and gives them a whirl, one with each hand. 


30 


Monsieur Bob. 


Those assaulted go spinning around until they 
look like the whirling dervishes met with on 
the road to Mecca. Shackelford witnesses all 
this from the outskirts of the crowd. He 
stands there amazed, while Arab and moun- 
taineer come spinning past. In spite of Bob’s 
furious dexterity he seems no nearer a solu- 
tion of the question; the vacuum is immedi- 
ately filled up from the sides. 

Then, to the further amazement of the 
veteran, he sees this aroused tiger kick off his 
shoes, spring up, seize upon the moulding of 
the heavy arch, and thus holding on actually 
walk over the heads of the dense pack that 
fills the doorway; they cannot move a hand 
to prevent him; in five seconds he has sur- 
mounted the difficulty and is inside the gor- 
geous temple. 

Captain Aleck has already run to a slit of a 
window through which he pushes his head and 
shoulders ; it will even be possible for him to 
pass into the mosque by this route if his pres- 
ence is really needed. 

One glance around tells him what has been 
the cause of all the uproar. The building has 
been threatened with fire; a lamp has exploded 
in some strange way, and, but for the presence 
of mind of the old mufti, whose energy is not 
confined to his prayers, it seems, the magnif- 


Monsieur Bob. 


31 


icent mosque, the finest outside of Stamboul, 
must have been destroyed. 

This accounts for the alarm of those within, 
for fire is something the Arab fears ; although 
the flames have been subdued, excitement still 
reigns within the temple. 

While the veteran looks about, he is sur- 
prised to hear his name spoken. The slit in 
the thick wall is about six feet from the floor, 
and as he turns his head someone makes a 
motion. 

It is Monsieur Bob. 

He half supports the figure of one whom 
Captain Shackelford has taken for a Spanish 
student, wearing blue glasses and a soft hat ; 
the glasses have been lost in the crush, and one 
glance the woman-hater has of a pair of liquid 
eyes that send a peculiar thrill to his hardened 
heart. 

As yet in the excitement they do not appear 
to have attracted attention. The seeming 
student recovers and stands alone; Shackel- 
ford does not fail to note the blushes that 
chase along that olive neck. 

“We must get out of here at once,” says 
Bob in a low but terribly earnest voice; “I 
have heard several declare they could swear 
by Allah and his prophet that they caught a 
woman’s scream at the time the flames flashed 
Up. When the excitement subsides in a few 


32 


Monsieur Bob. 


minutes there may be an investigation. We 
must escape; at least she must, before then.” 

‘‘Leave me, Monsieur Bob,” breathes the 
softest, sweetest voice in the world. 

“Never! ” exclaims the American fiercely. 

“My foolishness has brought this terrible 
evil about — it is justice that I should suffer, 
but why must you share my fate? You are 
brave, you are noble, but leave me! ” she con- 
tinues more anxious regarding his danger than 
her own peril. 

“At least I am no coward, Senorita. You 
know why I will not leave you — why I will 
face this rabble of wolves if necessary, to de- 
fend you,” he says in low tones that are 
rendered more thrilling by the strange scenes 
surrounding them. 

She gives him one glance from the eyes that 
have before now made him her slave, and the 
captain hears her say half aloud : 

“Merci/ I really believe I am beginning to 
admire the awkward giant after all.” 

If Bob hears this aside he pays no attention 
to it. All of his though s seem to be concen- 
trated upon the solution of the puzzle. Egress 
by means of the door is impossible, and by the 
time a passage has been cleared the janizaries 
of the mosque may be searching for the person 
who gave that involun'ary feminine scream; 


Monsieur Bob. 


3^ 


searching, with the desperate purpose of doing 
murder. 

Alive to the emergenc^^ determined to save 
a precious life, doubly precious to him, the tall 
Chicago pilgrim looks around eagerly, in the 
endeavor to find some loop-hole of escape. 
For himself he has not a single thought; true, 
his violent energy at the door of the sacred 
mosque must have made him enemies, but in 
the excitement such rude handling may be for- 
given ; at any rate he can stand their scowls, 
and keep his eyes about, should chance cause 
him to wander through the queer narrow 
lanes and arcades of the native part of Al- 
giers, where a vengeful foe might lurk to deal 
a cowardly blow. 

‘‘She must be gotten out of here — but how 
can it be done ? A blight on my stupid brain ! 
Here is this miserable slit of a window, and a 
pair of strong arms beyond. Captain, you 
promised to help me — now is the time to keep 
your word. Hold out your arms, man.^^ 

His words are filled with authority ; Shackel- 
ford is accustomed to giving orders, but in 
such an emergency he knocks under to Bob — 
Bob, who belies the name of a good-natured, 
lazy gawk, hardly knowing what to do with 
his hands when in the presence of the gentler 
sex — Bob, who is worth a whole regiment in 
an affair when desperate valor is needed. 


34 


Monsieur Bob. 


This same ordinarily bashful worthy bends 
over the object of his adoration, the owner of 
those wonderful eyes that had had their glow- 
ing fire obscured by a pair of common blue 
sand-glasses; when he speaks there is no sign 
of hesitation in his voice, for it takes some such 
occasion like this, where danger menaces, to 
show Monsieur Bob at his best. 

“You will pardon me, Nina — Senorita. This 
is no time for etiquette. Your life is in danger; 
you may be killed if you remain. There is one 
way to save you — through this window. 
Again I say, pardon me, but you must obey. 
Put your arm around my neck.’’ 

She hears; who could refuse when he speaks 
with such quiet authority? She does exactly 
what Monsieur Bob tells her. Then he raises 
her up. She is no shadow, but a substance of 
at least a hundred and thirty, and yet he lifts 
her as though she were a child. That is where 
those superb muscles that seem to be sleep- 
ing most of the time, come into play. 
Were she twice that weight Monsieur Bob 
would raise her to the slit in the wall, and 
think nothing of it. Awkward he may be as 
a lover, but at such a time as this the slum- 
bering giant within awakens and transforms 
him into a god among men. Who else would 
do and dare thus for her? 

She gives him one dazzling smile that causes 


Monsieur Bob. 


35 


his heart to expand until he fears it must 
burst; then the captain has hold of the ex- 
tended hand — a quick spring, and she has 
reached the embrasure. 

There is plenty of room for her to pass, and 
as Monsieur Bob realizes that she has gone, he 
turns his attention to the still excited and de- 
monstrative followers of Mohammed. 

One thing he sincerely hopes— that no one 
has paid any particular attention to the scene 
occuring at the window. Others in the sudden 
excitement have made use of different slits in 
the wall, in order to escape, so there was noth- 
ing out of the way in what he has done. 

The excitement grows apace, for the tremen- 
dous voice of the old priest or mufti has 
bellowed out certain facts, following with 
quotations from the Koran respecting the 
sanctity of the temple. 

Every one is now engaged in scanning the 
faces of his neighbors eagerly, while all of the 
foreigners come in for a close survey. The 
voice of the sheik urges them on. They must 
discover the person who gave vent to that 
feminine shriek when the flames went up. So 
earnest is the search that many have drawn 
weapons, and if an unfortunate female is dis- 
covered these successors to the terrible janiza- 
ries who used to guard the Kasbah, their 
ancient citidel, now used as a barrack by the 


36 


Monsieur Bob. 


French zonaves, will speedily dye their keen- 
edged knives and swords in her nnholy blood. 

Monsieur Bob breathes easy now, since he 
has faith in Shackelford, and has heard no 
outcry that would indicate trouble outside. 
He pictures the old woman-hater accompany- 
ing Nina to her home; they must first pass 
through the lanes and shaded streets of old 
Algiers, and inwardly the man from Chicago 
chafes because fate does not allow him the 
privilege of being her escort. 

It may be just as well ; to him belongs the 
credit of saving the indiscreet girl who has 
awakened the religious wrath of this fierce 
congregation. True, it is only a little thing, 
and Monsieur Bob cannot imagine how he 
could do otherwise ; but he knows that Nina’s 
feelings toward him have changed, and remem- 
bering the fruitless siege he has laid to her 
heart in the past, he glows with pleasure to 
think that fortune has finally given _him a 
show. 

Leaning against the wall he watches the 
bustle, hears the many questions, and notes 
the fact that the fruitless search enrages the 
people. They act rnore like furious wolves 
than men, and the foreigners, who fail to un- 
derstand what all this affair is about, huddle 
together as would a herd of sheep, wondering 
if their lives are to be sacrificed forsooth, be- 


Monsieur Bob. 


37 


cause a lamp chooses to explode in the mosque, 
and hoping the French troops from the Kas- 
bah may appear upon the scene ere it is too 
late. 

A hand touches the arm of the tall Chica- 
goan, and, turning, he sees an Arab wearing 
turban and bournous. Somehow the dark 
face with its moustache and goatee rivets his 
attention ; this is no ordinary" Bedouin of the 
desert, but a man whose name is carved upon 
the recent history of Algeria, and for years has 
been a terror to all travelers of the interior. 

Monsieur Bob recognizes him at a glance, 
and meets his stare with one of equal ferocity. 

‘^Ah! you have come to Algiers, Musta-el- 
Gaber, — you the burning brand of the desert? 
This is a dangerous locality for you. If I were 
to whisper the news to the French general 
there would be a public execution at sunrise 
on the Place du Gouvernment.” 

The dark-skinned scourge of Algeria smiles, 
and electrifies the American by saying : 

‘‘Monsieur Bob forgets; the life of the girl 
he loves is in my hands. I saw you help her to 
escape. If the truth is known, all the French- 
men in Algiers could not save her. Now, let 
Monsieur Bob proclaim from the house tops 
that Musta-el-Gaber is in town!” 


CHAPTER III. 


MONSIEUR bob’s DOUBLE WARNING. 

Monsieur Bob realizes that he is rendered 
powerless by sueh a cunning foe. His hands 
are tied, since Musta-el-Gaber holds the key to 
the situation. 

‘‘It was a very fine piece of business, and 
reflects credit upon Monsieur Bob, but if I was 
to proclaim what I know here and now, you 
would have to fight for your life, and she — 
you know an Arab never forgets an injury 
against his religion — she would surely die.” 

The man speaks in his ear so that no other 
person can hear, and yet it seems to Bob the 
information is conYe3^ed in thunder tones. He 
stares around, fearful lest the terrible old 
mufti has heard ; the man chances to be look- 
ing directly at him just then. 

Does he already suspect? 

“You may be sure I will keep your secret 
then, for her sake ; but if harm comes to her 
through 3^ou, the desert will not be large 
enough to hide a man of your size. You hear 
me, Musta-el-Gaber? 


38 


Monsieur Bob. 


39 


He drops his hand on the other’s shoulder, 
and the fellow cringes under the fierce grip. 

Then, without waiting for a reply, Bob 
turns and leaves him. He strides over to the 
little foreign contingent, huddled together like 
a lot of sheep, wanting a leader. The fierce 
Arabs and Kabyls scowl upon them and jab- 
ber in their peculiar tongue, as though about 
to murder the whole pack. 

Monsieur Bob’s coming puts new life into 
the party ; he has the appearance of a leader, 
one upon whom they can depend. In his hand 
he already holds a revolver. 

“Gentleman,” he says, in a voice that is 
plainly heard above the racket, “we have to 
get out of this place, peaceably if we can, forci- 
bly if we must ; but we are going out, mark 
that. How many of you are armed?” 

Although the French hold Algiers, and the 
foreign residents about equal the natives in 
numbers, it is considered folly for any one to 
wander about this region without some 
means of defense. From time to time bold 
robberies are committed, and the cadi, or 
Moorish judge, is apt to deal lightly with an 
offender when the victim is a foreigner. 0 
cout'se, if the case reaches the French courts 
justice is done. 

It docs not surprise Bob in the least when 


40 


Monsieur Bob. 


every man present, English, French, German 
and Spanish, draws a weapon. 

There are nine of them, all told, and thus 
armed they present quite a sturd3^ appearance. 
The Arabs fall back, still chattering like mon- 
keys. 

‘‘Follow me, gentlemen. We’ll force a pas- 
sage, if necessary, through the doorway.” 

They advance, and as the exit is reached 
those who still fill it fall back in dismay, not 
exactly liking the looks of this determined 
band, with the warlike man at their head. 
Since Monsieur Bob has been fully aroused he 
does not bear much resemblance to the man 
known among his friends by that name; his 
clumsiness has vanished, and surely one 
could not apply the name of Sir Laziness to 
him now. 

Thus they pass outside, where foot-gear is 
hurriedly resumed, and the foreigners, still 
keeping pretty well together, pass along to 
the new part of the city, where they are safe. 

Bob has more ti;ouble than the rest about 
finding his shoes, since they are not in charge 
of the custodian at the door of the temple ; for 
it will be remembered he kicked them off when 
about to clamber over the mass of men 
jammed in the doorway, more because he 
could climb better without such impedimenta 


Monsieur Bob. 


41 


than that he considered the respect due to the 
sacred carpet. 

The missing shoe is finally discovered in the 
possession of an Arab, who smilingly returns 
lit and receives a franc. Thus Bob is fixed, 
land can dep)art. 

It is high time, since all of his companions 
are gone, and he finds himself the scowled- 
'upon center of observation. Little he cares 
for that, but walks toward the exit of the 
court, with a careless swing. 

No one attempts to stay him, though 
several heads are 3^et dizzy from the awful 
spin which his strong arm gave them. He is 
perfectly' aware of the fact that he is followed, 
even without turning his head. Bob treats 
these fellows about as a lordly lion would the 
snapping jackals at his heels; let him once 
turn his head, and they slink out of sight. 

His thoughts are of Nina, and 3^et, much as 
he would give to see her, he dares not proceed 
thither for fear lest these spies suspect some- 
thing of the truth. 

He walks through the old town. The after- 
noon is still young, and as the end of the great 
fast approaches, the Mohammedans show 
signs of the coming season of mirth. 

Not that even the most religious among 
them suffer during these thirty days. It goes 
without saying that the whole affair is a hum- 


42 


Monsieur Bob. 


bug. By day they fast and attend their 
mosque, but no sooner does the garrison gun 
indicate sunset than they hasten to their 
homes, where a fine dinner has been gotten 
in readiness, feast themselYCS, and pass the 
evening in any favorite amusement ; the cloak 
of religion is thrown off until sunrise. 

Monsieur Bob looks about him with languid 
interest, and yet the scene is one that must 
often come up again in his mind ; around him 
lie the gloomy walls of old A1 Jezira with their 
small hol^s for windows; here and there he 
sees Kabyl women bearing burdens on their 
heads, — veiled Moorish ladies carrying an air 
of intense mystery with them, and yet willing 
to slyly flirt with the tall foreigner — turbaned 
Arabs in slippered feet, astride of donkeys of 
such small size that the rider can almost touch 
the ground on either side, — ^little shelf-like 
shops where the Moorish proprietor sits cross- 
legged among his curios, calmly smoking while 
waiting for trade, always contented and ready 
to exclaim : “ Kismet ! It is fate ! 

Looking from this strange quarter Bob can 
see the lower town with its bustle; a tram- 
way and horse cars run to Mustapha, the 
beautiful foreign suburb on the hill; omni- 
buses to the Arab village of Birkadeen, and 
at this hour swarms of foreigners, Moorish 


Monsieur Bob. 


43 


and Jewish merchants, — yes, and native Arab 
traders, are on their way home. 

Beyond lies the beautiful harbor, with its 
vessels flying the flags of all nations. It is 
very hard to believe that onh^ two genera- 
tions ago the city of Algiers was a hot-bed 
of pirates ; that strings of Christian i3risoners 
worked upon the jetties in the harbor; that in 
the loveljdiomes upon the hill Mustapha dwelt 
the original pirate owners, sighting their prey 
from afar; and that at one time more than 
twenty thousand European prisoners were 
held here, subject to the caprice of the arro- 
gant Dey. It was our navy that gave the 
Algerian pirates their first drubbing, and, 
thanks to the French, all that terror has be- 
come a thing of the past. 

The names of these old pirates can still be 
seen in letters of gold upon the posts leading 
to many of the Moorish dwellings on the hill, 
now transformed into sunny homes for the 
foreign residents; and the halls and courts, 
that once wore an air of dark tragedy and 
mysteiy, echo to-day withthemerry shouts of 
English or French children. 

Thank Heaven for that! 

As Monsieur Bob walks in the direction of 
Mustapha Superieur, he sees another sight 
that is decidedly oriental. 

A bric-a-brac merchant has spread out his 


44 . 


Monsieur Bob. 


stock upon one of the terraces, while the ladies 
look over his wares, — perhaps to admire, it 
may be to purchase. The lazy follower of Mo- 
hammed sits there smoking a cigarette and 
idly thrumming on a mandolin, as though he 
is hired by the hour to kill time, and has not 
the least interest in a sale. Perhaps a close 
observer might notice that mueh of this care- 
lessness is assumed, for he slyly watches the 
English ladies out of the corner of his eyes. 
His stoek in trade has been spread out in a 
showy and artistic manner; it rivets atten- 
tion, the rieh, warm colors lending a setting 
to the scene, of which the cross-legged Arab 
and his mandolin appear to occupy an im- 
portant niche. 

Here are embroideries of Tunis and Algiers, 
rich enough to make any lady covetous ; car- 
pets or rugs from Zanzibar that feel like eider- 
down under the slippered feet; Kabyl haiks 
and jewelry for keepsakes, as are also the 
spears of the desert Bedouin, elegant wares 
from Damascus, and various trinkets gleaned 
from the four quarters of the globe. 

“ Heavens ! If I could only photograph that 
scene, mutters Monsieur Bob, pausing, his 
artistic spirit aroused by the soft blending of 
colors, and the strange contrast between the 
white-skinned English ladies with the dark, 
turbaned Arab. ‘‘It seems to me I^ve met this 


Monsieur Bob. 


45 


chap before ; if he’d only raise his head I could 
tell in a second; but what of that? Ah! he 
looks this way — he starts — he beckons. Bless 
my soul if it isn’t Abdul Medshid!” 

This looks as though the Arab trader and 
the tall Chicagoan have met before.. 

As he advances, the old merchant rises to his 
feet, and, placing his hands across his breast, 
solemnly bows ; but Monsieur Bob is not satis- 
fied with this cold Arabic salutation; he makes 
the other come to terms and shake hands in 
the civilized way, though the dark-skinned 
merchant mentally groans as. he extracts his 
aching digits from the warm clutch of the im- 
pulsive giant. 

Abdul Medshid can talk good English, for he 
has spent many years among the soldiers of 
the queen of Cairo in Egypt. This man has 
seen much of the world, and Monsieur Bob has 
at some time in the past had the good fortune 
to place him under heavy obligations. The 
Arab or Moor never forgets a favor; in this he 
is like our American Indian ; indeed, there are 
many points of resemblance between them. 

I had heard you were here,” says the Arab 
merchant, quickly. 

^‘How was that?” asks Bob. 

‘^It was Zella who saw you.” 

Bob remembers the beauty of Abdul’s child; 
he can picture her as last he saw her, laden 


46 


Monsieur Bob. 


with precious stones, dressed in the richest 
silks of the world, and adorning her father’s 
house like a princess, for this merchant is in 
truth immensely wealthy; one would not per- 
haps believe it to see him thus vending his 
wares, but the old man is shrewd, and he un- 
doubtedly has an object in all he does, though 
that object is not always seen. 

“Zella saw me and failed to speak? I can 
hardly believe she would treat an old friend so 
j)oorly,” exclaims Monsieur Bob. 

The merchant looks around him; the English 
ladies are some distance away, examining 
a piece of exquisite embroidery, though cast- 
ing side glances toward the manly-looking 
stranger. Abdul Medshid had a look of 
trouble on his face, generally so devoid of 
expression, and this is so plain that even Bob 
notices it. 

“You forget. Monsieur, that the ladies of 
our race are bound by social customs as with 
fetters of steel. Should the wife or daughter 
of a Moor be seen talking with a Christian on 
the public streets, or showing the whole of her 
face to view, she would not only be ostracised 
— something even worse might occur.” 

“Your pardon, Abdul. I should have 
thought of that. It was foolish of me,” says 
Bob quickly. 

“Besides,” continues the merchant, steadily, 


Monsieur Bob. 


47 


‘‘she could not give you even a sign, for at the 
time she chanced to be in company with one 
who hates all Christians in general, and I 
believe Monsieur Bob in particular. 

“Your words set me to thinking. I know 
of but one person that such a description 
would apply to. You mean Musta-el-Gaber.’^ 
“That is true. Monsieur Bob. That man 
means you ill — he seeks your downfall.’^ 
“That I am aware of, but I mean to baffle 
him. I can depend upon my good arm, friend. 
It has carried me through more trjdng scenes.’^ 
“Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his 
prophet! Monsieur Bob, T know you of old; 
I have seen you fight, and I believe you can 
look out for Number One under ordinary cases. 
But just now there is a terrible web being 
woven around you, and I fear for your life.” 

Naturally, Bob is rather interested, but he 
does not show the concern that bespeaks fear. 

“Tell me about this, my friend ; perhaps I 
have already an idea of what the truth may 
be,” he says in a calm voice. 

But Abdul Medshid shakes his head. 
“There is no place in Algiers where the 
walls have not ears save in a man's own 
house. Come and see us when the sun has 
gone; Zella will be glad. Listen, my friend. I 
have found out where you stop, at the hotel 
in the foreign quarter, when not on board of 


48 


Monsieur Bob. 


your yaclit. When you arrive at your room 
you will find there a note with my name. It 
says, after giving directions where to find my 
abode: ‘Come after dark this evening — as 
an Arab if you can. I have much to tell you; 
danger flies around; your life is foresworn; 
come surely.’ Thus you see we do not forget, 
Zell a and Abdul. We would return the debt 
we owe Monsieur Bob.” 

“I will come; 3^ou shall tell me. Perhaps 
this is the very chance I have been looking for, 
to clear up several mysteries that bother me. 
You say the directions are on the paper?” 

“Take them down again, to be sure. Mon- 
sieur,” and Bob writes as the other speaks. 

“Pass up the Rue de I’Arabe until you 
reach the third arch, which has a white stone 
and an inscription in Arabic.” 

“ I know it well,” interrupts Bob. 

“The second door on the right is mine. It 
has a bell, and not a brass knocker like the 
rest. When the door is opened only say ‘ Mon- 
sieur Bob.’ That will be the password to my 
house this night, and only he can enter who 
has it.” 

“A thousand thanks, my friend. What a 
strange meeting this has been.” 

“Kismet! it is fate. Monsieur,” returns the 
old merchant, holding up his hands in a dra- 
matic way; and then the furtive glance he 


Monsieur Bob. 


49 


casts in the direction of the white Arab houses 
proclaims that he is anxious that Bob take 
his departure, as he does not wish to be seen 
talking with one who is already known in 
certain classes as a ‘‘marked man.” 

Under these circumstances Bob cannot well 
remain ; at any rate he looks forward to the 
evening visit to lift the veil of mystery. So 
he bids the merchant farewell. Abdul feigns 
to bow so humbly that it is impossible for him 
to see the extended hand, at which the ruffian 
of a Bob grins, remembering that he did put a 
little warmth in his greeting, bows in return 
and turns away, followed by the eyes of the 
English ladies, one of whom seems to know 
him, by sight at any rate, as she mentions his 
name and points to where the dandy yacht 
rides at anchor in the beautiful bay of Algiers. 

He walks on, pondering over what has so 
recently occurred, and endeavoring to put cer- 
tain facts together, so as to render the fabric 
complete. A strange life it is one can lead in 
this same city of Algiers ; in the very midst of 
modern society, gay garrison balls, theaters 
and all that pertains to the present age, it 
needs but a step into the old Moorish quarter, 
with its narrow lanes ascending the hill and 
the giant walled-in houses toppling toward 
each other so that in places their roofs actually 
touch, to take one back at least a century, for 


50 


Monsieur Bob. 


surely these houses were exactly like this then, 
and the inhabitants dressed and acted just as 
they do now. 

There must always hover over this scene a 
halo of mystery; it is a part of the Moorish 
nature, and will probably never be removed 

Monsieur Bob notes that the golden orb of 
day is dropping rapidly in the direction of the 
hills that mark the western horizon. It has 
been a glorious winter’s day, such as people 
have come from chilly England and France to 
enjoy; for the invalid fears no harsh winds in 
this country favored by the gods for a winter 
residence, far above Nice on the Mediterranean, 
more than five hundred miles north. The dif- 
ference lies in the fact that Algiers is south of 
the great inland sea, and no chilly air can 
sweep across from the lands of ice and snow. 

Taking one last glance in the direction of the 
harbor, to see that his yacht is apparently all 
right. Monsieur Bob heads for the hotel. He 
has perfected his plans for the immediate pres- 
ent, and knows of a bazar where he can, while 
on his way thither, purchase all the articles 
needed for his disguise, fancy boots with red 
or yellow tops, such as the better class of 
natives wear, bournous and anything else he 
may fancy. 

It is nearly sunset, and soon the voice of the 


Monsieur Bob. 


51 


muezzin will be heard from his tower calling 
the faithful to prayer. 

Monsieur Bob makes his purchases, which 
cost him numerous duros, for the dealer always 
sticks it on to rich foreigners, and receives a 
queer-shaped bundle in exchange, which he is 
to carry to his hotel. 

Just as he quits the Arab bazar he sights a 
well-known face in the entrance to the hotel 
down the street. It is Captain Shackelford; 
his countenance betokens anxiety as he looks 
up and down the street. 

^^Bon so/r, capitaine!^^ exclaims Bob, sud- 
denly appearing before him, at which the 
veteran gives a tremendous start, and smiles 
blandly, while blind to the extended hand. 

^ ‘ Thank Heaven, you are here safe and sound , 
Bob, my boy ! I began to fear those accursed 
bigots at the mosque might have done you up 
and made a premature job of it,’^ and his voice 
declares the warmth of his feelings, even if he 
does refuse to shake hands with the Chicago 
bear. 

“Why are you here, looking so anxious, 
Aleck ? You know me well enough to believe 
I could take care of myself in that crowd.” 

“It wasn’t that. Luck has been with me, 
my friend, and since leaving you I have learned 
comething that will interest you— perhaps 
make your hair stand on end with dismay.” 


52 


Monsieur Bob. 


His voice is low and very mysterious, but 
Bob simply raises a hand and pulls his tourist 
hat more firmly over his brow. 

“I reckon that will prevent it. Now suppose 
you spin the yarn, Shaekelford, my dear boy.’^ 
“Not while that beastly Arab watches us, 
down the street. Take me to your room and 
hear the awful tale.^^ 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE ARAB CONJURER. 

It is certain that Shackelford has learned 
something concerning Bob’s fortunes, and the 
young Ameriean shows an eagerness to hear 
what it may be. When last seen, it will be 
remembered that the doughty captain was in 
the company of the girl whose eyes have made 
such havoc with Bob Crane’s heart, so that 
his anxiety is perfectly natural. 

The other’s manner is very mysterious, and 
he even speaks of an Arab spy watching them 
from some place along the square. 

Bob’s hotel is situated upon the Place da 
Gouvernementy near the shadow of a mosque, 
but now the principle square in new Algiers. 
It is crowded with people, four-fifths of whom 
are foreigners, and quite a number of hand- 
some ladies can be seen in their carriages. 
Here cafes, magasins de nouveautes and little 
bazars abound; around this section the bust- 
ling business centers, and yet here the foreign 
element take their idle stroll also. 

The cause is not hard to find. In this center 

63 


54 


Monsieur Bob. 


gather all the elements that make Algiers one 
of the most delightfully’' cosmopolitan cities of 
the world ; here the observer notes people of 
almost every^ race under the sun, each in his 
national costume, so that the scene on a sunny 
winter’s afternoon is one never to be for- 
gotten. 

Besides, there is the music; the French mili- 
tary band discourses delightful airs, and the 
pulses quicken when even Yankee Doodle or 
the Star Spangled Banner rolls out, for there 
are numerous Americans in town, and the 
band leader knows how to make friends. 

Not far away is the Kasbah once the 
ancient citidel of the notorious janizaries, who 
made a Dey, or ruler for Algiers one morning, 
and, within twenty-four hours, had his head 
dangling from one of the old city gates known 
as Bab Azoun and Babel Oned. Here are the 
barracks for the French soldiers, and the place 
that once knew the plottings of the dark- 
skinned conspirators now resounds to the 
laughter of zouaves, while the halls echo with 
stirring music and the patter of many feet as 
the garrison balls take place. 

Truly, Algiers has seen wonderful changes, 
and these walls that now echo with pleasure 
could tell terrible tales were they gifted with" 
the power of speech. 

Surrounded by such a scene of gaity, it is no 


Monsieur Bob. 


55 


wonder that Shackelford desires to seek some 
more quiet nook in order to speak. This is 
certainly no place for a serious conversation, 
and his manner proclaims that he has some- 
thing to communicate that is not of the most 
cheerful nature in the world. 

So Monsieur Bob leads him into the caravan- 
sary. It is a French hotel, run by a Gaul, and 
much superior to many places on the conti- 
nent where Bob has paid a large sum for 
mighty poor equivalents. He has no fault to 
find with his quarters; it would be hard for 
this pilgrim to complain anyway; he is so 
good natured, and has roughed it all around 
the world so long, sleeping in such tough 
places, that he has grown to be very uncon- 
cerned about trifles. 

Who can say what his thoughts may be as 
he leads the captain to his den? Nina is in 
his mind ; at the same time he has a confused 
recollection of others — ^Zella, the child of Ab- 
dul Medshid, with her face of entrancing lovli- 
ness, and Musta-el-Gaber, the dreaded pirate 
of the desert come before him, as though they 
have a share in this puzzle which the man 
from Chicago must soon solve, the penalty of 
a failure meaning possibly death. 

Strange elements are working against him 
in this wonderful Moorish town, and if he 
gains a decisive victory over them it will be 


56 


Monsieur Bob. 


through pure Yankee pluck, the quality that 
never gives up, that has made us a nation, 
and will one day place us ahead of all others 
in the world. 

They reach his room at last, and Bob, find- 
ing it dusky therein, throws open the blinds 
that have kept the sun’s glare out. 

A beautiful view flashes before them, for as 
the hotel commands a view over the lower 
houses, the blue sea is in sight. There lie the 
shipping-steamers and sailing vessels of all 
nations, some with their canvas spread as 
though about to take advantage of the favor- 
able evening breeze. 

It is worth looking at, this sight, but 
Captain Shackelford’s eyes are at once riveted 
upon a cloud of smoke just seen around the 
point of land to the east. 

“Yonder goes the mail steamer for Phillippe- 
ville. Bona and Tunis. I would to Heaven we 
were all safely aboard of her,” he says, warmly, 
at which Monsieur Bob looks keenly at 
him and wonders what could have occurred to 
cause this old fire-eater such uneasiness. 

“Come, my friend, you look for amusement. 
Now that it is coming it sounds strange to 
hear 3^ou talk of flight. I am amazed!” 

Shackelford smiles grimly, as he turns his 
grizzled head and shows his white teeth. 

“I was thinking, not of myself, but of that 


Monsieur Bob. 


57 


lovely creature you rescued from the fury of 
the fiends in the mosque/’ he returns. 

At this Monsieur Bob chuckles. 

‘‘I thought as much. Talk about your 
heart being cast iron ; why, bless you, it is as 
tender as a spring chicken’s! One melting 
glance from Nina’s eyes, the touch of her hand 
on your arm, has brought about a revolution. 
Our woman-hater is conquered. Good! He 
will not be so severe on me from this time 
forward.” 

^‘Nonsense!” says the veteran. 

‘‘Good Heavens! He blushes! This severe 
anchorite, this hater of the gentler sex! Really, 
the time may come when you and I, Captain, 
may look at each other over leveled revolvers. 
We may be rivals, but I warn you in advance 
I will brook no interference. He scowls; my 
soul ! an arrow has already pierced his stony 
old heart. We shall soon have him spouting 
Tennyson, or perhaps writing verses himself, 
who knows?” and Bob laughs cheerily as he 
pokes the veteran slyly in the ribs. 

“Have your fun. Bob, my boy. You may 
not feel so much like laughing when you have 
heard my story,” returns Shackelford. 

“Is it so serious as that, my friend? Here, 
take a weed and make yourself comfortable 
while you spin the yarn.” 

The soldier of fortune selects a fine cigar 


58 


Monsieur Sofi. 


from the box held out to him, lights it, and 
then draws a chair near the window, where 
he can look out occasionally upon the harbor, 
or the square below, with its moving crowds. 

There is a certain flavor of dramatic force in 
all he does, for Shackelford loves to invest 
everything with a spicy flavor. It is the nat- 
ure of the man. As for Bob he walks up and 
down the room as though endeavoring to 
work off some superfluous steam. 

“Proceed, old chap,” he says. 

“Well, let us go back to where you can get 
a good hold — the window in the wall of the 
mosque. When I had drawn that venture- 
some girl through and we were once more 
under the shade of the orange trees, I knew 
that haste was a factor in the game just then. 

“Take my word for it, I hated to leave you 
there. Bob, my boy, but I knew you would 
never forgive me if I failed to get the girl 
away, so you see there was no choice.” 

“Of course not,” mutters the other, pausing 
to glance out of the window, as some move- 
ment on board his yacht catches his quick eye. 
“They’re lowering a boat — Paxton’s com- 
ing a shore. Perhaps he wants to see me.” 

“Who the deuce is Paxton ? ” 

“My captain; picked him up in Naples, and 
a deuced smart man, too.” 

“Ah! yes,” with a iDCculiar look at Bob, 


Monsieur Bob. 


59 


“what of your crew; is it the same our English- 
man had — sturdy British tars? 

“That’s a deuced strange question to ask 
me in the midst of your yarn.” 

“ Answer me. It may yet have a bearing on 
the story I’m about to spin, man,” says the 
veteran with astonishing vigor. 

“ Oh ! if that’s the case, its easily done. Part 
of the crew remained. The balance I had to 
make up as best I could, but they are all good 
men if kept away from liquor. I pay an extra 
price, and no shore days allowed.” 

“I see. Well, we must go back again. If 
there’s danger that Paxton may interrupt us 
I’ll condense as much as I can.” 

“He can wait,” says Bob resuming his walk. 

“Knowing my duty, I hurried out of the 
grounds of the mosque. I would have assisted 
the fair Nina, but that would have looked 
suspicious. She kept her head down so that I 
couldn’t see her face. 

“Where we were to go I hadn’t an idea, so 
mustering my French I said : 

“ ‘If Mademoiselle knows the way home she 
must be the guide,’ and heard her reply : 

“‘Certainly, Monsieur.’ 

“We passed through Arab town, along some 
of those narrow streets where it always seems 
to me assassins must be lurking, but there was 


60 


Monsieur BoE. 


nothing to disturb us, and finally we drew 
near the foreign quarter. 

‘‘I notieed that Ma’m’selle Nina began to ap- 
pear very nervous, and eould readily imagine 
the eause, for the situation was singular 
enough. 

“As we were now safe, and she must be near 
home, I thought it might be wise for me to say 
au revoivy and relieve her of my presence. 

“While in the act of so doing, she looked up 
at me for the first time, and — deuce take it. 
Bob, as you say, those eyes are enough to melt 
a heart of stone — I stammered like a wretch 
of a school boy, and she seemed to rega’n her 
self-possession as I lost mine. 

“ ‘ You are his friend ? ^ she said quickly. 

“I assured her that I was your shadow, 
your inseparable; it seemed to me just then I 
could not get too close to you if I was going 
to catch some of your reflected light. 

“Oh! you villain! I see I shall yet have to 
stand you up and puncture you with a thirty- 
eight bit of lead. But never mind me; go on ; 
what else did she saj ? ” 

Talk about 3^our eager lovers! This man 
shows his nervousness in every movement. 
Cool and collected he can be in times of great 
peril, but under such circumstances as these he 
is only human, and looks savagely at the 
deliberate captain, as though almost ready to 


Monsieur Bob. 


61 


pounce upon him, and with a shake cause his 
tongue to wag faster. 

Shackelford blows a blue wreath up into the 
air, and watches it whirl out of the window 
into the great expanse beyond. The tantaliz- 
ing monster knows what agony racks Bob’s 
heart, but it does not cause him to hasten one 
bit. 

‘‘At my assurance, this angel in disguise lays 
one hand on m3^ arm, and I cannot help notic- 
ing what a soft, plump little member it is ; she 
still magnetizes me with those deuced bright 
eyes, and wraps me around her finger, meta- 
phorically speaking.” 

Bob grins wickedly, but the captain is look- 
ing aloft at the blue sky, which he can see as 
he lies back in his easy chair at the window. 

“‘Tell me,’ she says in a thrilling whisper, 
‘tell me, will they hurt him, — that awkward, 
foolish, but oh, so brave Monsieur Bob, — the 
man who lifted me as though I were a child, 
and saved me from the awful result of my silly 
action, — will he suffer for that? ’ 

“Well, I had the greatest notion in the world 
to tell her you were dead sure to be chopped 
to pieces by the yataghan tribe; that already 
the chances were ten to one they had made 
mince meat out of one Bob Crane of Chicago, 
and that she must think of him no longer, but 
let her gratitude go out to the living; but con- 


62 


Monsieur Bob. 


found the luck, when those eyes held me I 
couldn’t tell a lie to save my neck, Bob ! 

assured her you were able to look out for 
yourself, and would see her in good time, which 
seemed to please the darling immensely , for she 
blushed like a rose. 

Then she begged me not to breathe a word 
of this escapade to a living soul, wondered 
how the adorable Bob ever learned of her in- 
tention, pointed out the fine house where she 
lived, invited me to call, — with you, mind, — 
and then left me standing there, not quite cer- 
tain whether I was Aleck Shackelford, the 
woman-hater of old, or a new species of fool 
just hatched out.” 

At this Bob roars. 

“Upon my soul, that ’s the richest joke of the 
season. The lion’s claws are clipped, and by a 
pair of bright eyes. Now that I think of it, 
perhaps Zella can effect a radical cure. Since I 
am captured, it might be well to make it a 
double.” 

“Who the deuce is Zella?” grumbles Aleck. 

“You shall see — ah! there is beauty to carry 
your old flinty heart by storm. Zella you shall 
know, and if you pass that siege unscathed, I 
shall disown you as a hopeless vagabond.” 

“But I am not through yet.” 

“No ? ” with eagerness. 

“ Great Scott 1 man, the best is to come. You 


Monsieur Bob. 


63 


think the interest wanes because the fair Nina 
has left the stage. Listen, then. I said I was 
rooted to the spot for a minute, and looked 
after the girl. She reached a wall ; there was 
a door in it which she unlocked ; then turning, 
she blew me a kiss, — of course meant for you, 
friend Bob, — and vanished from view. 

“Hooked at my watch. No use returning 
to the mosque, for by this time I knew they 
had either cut you up into small pieces, or else 
you were gone. 

“So I sauntered down town, thinking I 
would take supper with you at your hotel ” — 

“ Consider yourself engaged, old chap.” 

“ — and relate my adventures. While walk- 
ing along I came upon a fakir doing some nice 
tricks, and stopped to see if he could equal the 
chap we had a row with in Alexandria. Bless 
my soul. Bob, it was the same fellow!” 

“Thunder and Mars! Achmed in Algiers! 
Another complication !” 

“He didn’t seem to recognize me, and as I 
stood there I wondered whether his coming to 
Algiers had anything to do with you. Then I 
heard my name called, and looked up to see a 
head and a pair of arms thrust from a cab that 
hadcometo astopon the street, the arms wav- 
ing like flails at work.” 

“That was the Honorable Felix,” says Bob 
grimly. 


64 


Monsieur Bob. 


Campertown it was, and no other. I was 
deuced glad to see the little chap, and went 
out to take his hand and have a few words 
with him. His tongue was oiled and began 
work at once : 

‘"‘Just looking for you; heard you were in 
town ; tried to see that erratic Monsieur Bob ; 
knew nothing of him at the hotel; Jove! 
began to despair; dumb horror creeping up 
my spinal column ; feared I might be too late. 
Jump in, Shackelford ; talk as w e ride.’ 

‘‘That is the way he rattled on in a way 
you can readily understand. Enough was 
said to tell me he knew something that would 
interest you, and hence, without delay I 
tumbled in beside him. 

“We rode on; what with the rattle of the 
cab, the bumping I received, and Milord’s 
queer voice, it would not be surprising if I 
missed some of the words he dropped, but all 
the same I gathered enough to learn that your 
life is in danger again.” 

The other grunts in reply, and takes it all so 
coolly that Shackelford feels his old admira- 
tion for Monsieur Bob rising again. 

“You don’t take on as if you were scared. 
Bless me, Campertown showed more of the 
horrors than you give any evidence of,” he 
remarks, taking his cigar between his finger 
and thumb, dexterously flipping the ashes off 


Monsieur Bob. 


65 


with his little finger like an adept, and survey- 
ing Bob from head to foot as he stands there. 

“Perhaps it’s because he knew the whole 
story,” remarks Bob, significantly. 

“That’s so. Let me dig it out now. My 
suspicion connected with that beast of an 
Arab conjuror Achmed, was close to the bulls- 
eye.” 

“See here, was that him you mentioned as 
being down the street ? ” 

“Yes, and he stands in front of the bazar 
yet; look and see for yourself.” 

“Confound the dark-skinned rascal; it’s 
even so. He’s really after me, then ? ” 

“ After you, old chap ? Yes, with a vengeance. 
He’s sworn to do you up ; he has money, too, 
and an ordinary revenge don’t satisfy him. 
The scoundrel has captured your yacht.” 

“What! I was on board this morning; he 
would not dare attempt such a thing in broad 
daylight, and right under the guns of the Wasp. 
If it was at night, now*, I could give the story 
some credence, for these Arab dogs are as cun- 
ning as the deuce. Come, Captain, you’re a 
little far-fetched.” 

“Am I?” says Shackelford with a queer 
smile, and a stubborn shake of thehead; “just 
wait and see. The longest way around is 
often the quickest way to the fire. There are 
more tricks in this world, my lad, than ever 


66 


Monsieur Bob. 


entered into your pliilosopliy. You are honest 
and an open fighter yourself, so that you’re a 
poor hand at guessingthe knavery of others.” 

Knavery ! Then he’s up to ugly business ? ” 
‘‘Why, of course. Figs don’t grow on this- 
tles. You wouldn’t expect a man like Achmed 
to work openly for your downfall. Instead, 
he will call to his aid all the evil spirits he can 
conjure up, and take you unawares. How 
many men have you on the yacht? ” 

'“Let us see; seventeen, counting Paxton.” 
“Exactly. Well, ten out of that number 
have been bought, body and soul, by your 
enemy.” 

“ Confusion! ” 

“Paxton is a devil, hiding his real nature 
under a bluff manner. He means to secretly 
ship this Achmed on board before you sail. At 
a given time they will make you a prisoner ; a 
landing will be made on the coast of Italy 
between Naples and old Pompeii, near Vesuvius, 
now in a troubled state. Hark ! my dear boy ; 
this demon of an Arab conjurer has sworn a 
mighty oath by Mohammed, to cast you into 
the burning lake of lava that boils within the 
crater of the volcano ! ” 

He pauses to note the effect. 

The intelligence is horrible, and Bob might 
be excused for showing signs of emotion, but 


Monsieur Bob. 


67 


he is all nerve, and beyond a low langh gives 
no evidence of his feelings. 

-‘‘That’ s a jolly piece of news; rather warm, 
indeed. So that’s the kind of man Paxton is! 
I’ll have it out of him, some day,” he says. 

“ Surely you do n’t mean to embark with that 
crew, knowing this ? ” 

“Surely, I do. Then the fun will begin. I 
may take a notion to turn the tables, and let 
old Achmed see how a bath goes in the crater.” 

“Bob, you must have injured that man ter- 
ribly.” 

“ On my honor I have not, Aleck. It is a sad 
story, though, and I take no pleasure in speak- 
ing of it. You remember he had a child ? ” 

“Yes, quite a pretty girl, — Marhara was her 
name.” 

“I saw her frequently; I swear no word of 
love ever passed my lips; she was like a tigress, 
and told me I belonged to her; that she 
would die if I went away. I was mortified, 
angry. You remember, we left Alexandria 
hurriedly. I never told you why. It was to 
escape the importunities of Achmed and his 
daughter.” 

“Well?” 

“I have since heard she kept her word.” 

“ What ! Killed herself? ” 

“She disappeared, and was believed to have 
cast herself into the Nile.” 


68 


Monsieur Bob. 


^^Poor tiling. That would account for his 
terrible feeling toward you.” 

“True, Aleek, but as Heaven is my judge I 
am as innocent as you. I never breathed a 
word of love to that child. It was an unfortu- 
nate affair; that is all I can say.” 

“I believe you, Bob; I never knew you to 
tell an untruth. These things will erop up now 
and then in a lifetime. I’ve had ’em myself — 
old iron-clad woman-hater Aleck Shackelford.” 

“But did Campertown tell you how he came 
to know of this little picnic in store for me? ” 
resumed Monsieur. 

“One of the English sailors chanced to over- 
hear the whole plot. Campertown, thinking 
you were on board, went out to see 3^ou after 
dinner, when this fellow — he called him John 
Burrows, I believe — got a chance to slip a 
paper in his hand, whieh told the story. He 
meant to give it to you when you came aboard, 
or failing that, to swim ashore after dark.” 

“I shall remember John Burrows, and I’m 
a thousand times obliged to our mutual friend 
Campertown. Such a thing draws men closer 
together. Why, I actually love that English- 
man, with his Icud clothes, eye-glass. Dun- 
dreary drawl and all. I’ll take him to my 
heart the next time we meet, I declare.” 

“Don’t, Bob, I beg. He’ll fall to pieces in your 
grasp, he’s so wonderfully made up. But see 


Monsieur Bob. 


69 


here, do you mean to tell me 3^ou won^t put 
these chaps under arrest here? ” 

^‘Not an arrest.’^ 

‘‘And you will tempt Providence by sailing 
with such devils aboard your craft? ” 

“ Providence is kind; I have 3"ou for a com- 
rade. Confound the whole dozen conspira- 
tors ! We can wipe the deck with them, count- 
ing in the seven English tars. Who knows 
but what the Honorable Felix may sail with 
us.’' 

“That settles it then; if he goes the muti- 
neers have a poor show. One look from Cam- 
pertown in a towering rage will freeze their 
blood. Yes, you are right, my boy, the Hon- 
orable Felix is worth a regiment to scare the 
foe,” and with a dry chuckle at the thought of 
seeing the little Dundreary dandy strike an at- 
titude, Shackleford rises to his feet to go. 


CHAPTER Y. 


DOUBLE FACED. 

Just at tills moment tlie boom of a sunset 
gun announces that the daj" is done. It does 
more, for it tells hosts of the faithful that once 
again the fast of Ramadan has become a 
thing of the past, and that they may begin the 
annual feast. 

The flag comes down from the tall pole; 
soon darkness will settle upon Algiers, for in 
this warm country there is little twilight. 

^‘You are not going. Captain? Remember 
your promise to dine with me. Besides, man, 
I have a little story to tell you,” says Bob. 

“In that case I remain. But when he 
calls — ” 

“You mean Paxton? I’ll have him up so 
you can examine the monster. Not a hint of 
the truth though, my friend. I prefer to man- 
age that business in my own way.” 

“And you shall. Bob, you shall. I have faith 


Monsieur Bob. 


71 


to belicYe tliat if once we leave this city with 
its dark-skinned plotters behind, you will be 
able to master those on the yacht. 

“I imagine you suspect something of the 
truth, man,^^ cries Bob, clapping a hand upon 
his friend^s shoulder; ‘Hhat perhaps what I 
hope to learn this night may not be all news 
to you.’^ 

‘‘I have a faculty of picking up odds and 
ends of news. Bob. You see IVe chummed 
with war correspondents in my numerous 
campaigns, and imbibed some of their ways. 
Yes, I confess I have an inkling of something 
in store for you, but I can’t say what it is, 
save that Mttsta-el-Gaber cuts a figure there.” 

Deuce take it! He’s the man I was just 
about to tell you of;” and, rapidly. Bob 
sketches his little adventure in the mosque, 
where the great desert prince was inter- 
viewed. 

Shackelford frowns and looks serious. 

^Ht’s too bad he knows about the girl; how 
d’ye suppose he learned ? ” he asks. 

“That’s easy,” returns Bob, with a shrug; 
“you heardme say hermaid told me, believing 
I was her friend. Perhaps he has the same 
means of gaining information.” 

“In a word this cunning Musta has had a 
spy under her roof.” 

“ Very probable. If I can by hook or crook 


72 


Monsieur Bob. 


manage to gain her consent to fly with me on 
board my dandy yacht Skip-jack, we won^t 
mind the spy part of the business, but leave 
her behind.” 

‘‘Well?” 

Bob continues his little story, and soon 
comes to the Arab merchant, Abdul Medshid. 
All this while the soldier listens attentively, 
with one eye half closed, a favorite trick of his 
when measuring the truth. 

He makes no remark while Bob continues to 
speak, although moving uneasily as the latter 
repeats word for word the warning received 
from the old merchant. 

“Now give us your opinion; what d’ye 
think of it all? ” demands the younger man. 

“It’s about what I expected.” 

“Oh! indeed,” with a half sneer that hardly 
becomes so bluff and straightforward a man. 

“I didn’t expect it would come so soon.” 

“You believe the warning is genuine? ” 

“In a general way, yes. I am afraid, how- 
ever, that if you go to that house to-night you 
will fall into the very trap you seek to avoid.” 

“Oh! you suspect Abdul is in league with 
his countryman, the pirate. Perhaps this 
Achmed has also joined the conspiracy.” 

''Quien sahe?'' with a shrug and a smile. 

“And then there is the lovely Zella, most 


Monsieur Bob. 


73 


cliarming of Moorish maidens — she too must 
be in the deal if her father is.’^ 

“Time will tell,’’ mutters the dogmatic cap- 
tain, who can generally discover a mountain 
where other people see a mole hill. 

“The truth is you don’t know these people, 
and I do. I would risk much on the integrity 
of Zella and her father. Besides they are grate- 
ful.” 

“Eh?” 

“Through kind fortune I have been enabled 
to do them favors in the past.” 

“Bob, that alters the whole question. I 
know this Arab and Moorish native like a 
book. I ought to, for I’ve seen lots of ’em in 
the past. Now, there was the time I met 
this Gaber, quite some years back ; our camels 
were killed, and few of the caravan escaped. 
To make a long story short, I fell into his 
hands, was condemed to death, escaped in the 
night, and was pursued over the desert, suf- 
fered terribly, killed a number of Arabs who 
hunted me, and had a great picnic generally. 

“But this isn’t to the point. After I had 
made my escape I came upon a poor devil 
starving in the desert, fed him and brought 
him in safe to this very city. Six months after- 
ward misfortune again overtook me, and I 
was captured by these same outlaws while on 
the way to some mines where I had an interest. 


74 


Monsieur Bob. 


They voted that I should be put to death at 
sunrise. In the night a man led me forth, gave 
me my weapons and a desert ship, — a camel, 
you know, — and bade me begone. It was the 
chap I had saved. I escaped, and relate this 
little instance only to prove that these Arabs 
have a streak of gratitude in their composition. 
They never injure a man who eats salt with 
them. 

“I remember Walter Scott’s stories of the 
Crusades ; they were the same fleet horsemen 
of the desert in those days that they are now. 

‘‘Just as merciless, just as daring and un- 
scrupulous, and with the same good traits. 
Then 3"ou will accept the invitation of Abdul 
Medshid?” 

“Yes, I shall go to his house.” 

“You will see trouble. Bob.” 

“ That is your idea.” 

“It may not come to you in that house, but 
you have to go and come along a dangerous 
passage. The Rue de L’Arabe isn’t the love- 
liest promenade in the world, even during the 
daytime. God help the foreigner who strays 
into it after sunset ! ” 

“You forget I shall be Turk or Arab for the 
time being. My disguise will save me trouble.” 

“Perhaps; I hope so, but I have a premo- 
nition — ” 


Monsieur Bob. 


75 


‘‘Hang your confounded premonition, 
Shack,’’ says Bob, explosively. 

‘‘Just what I have said myself a dozen 
times,” continues the other, coolly, again 
knocking the pearly ashes from the tip of his 
cigar, and replacing the weed between his 
strong, white teeth; “and yet, Bob, I tell you 
solemnly I ’ve grown to believe in it at last. 
Yes, I have an idea I’m a little gifted as a 
prophet, besides being a soldier of fortune, 
war correspondent, adventurer, miner, and 
heaven knows what not.” 

“Nevertheless, I shall go to that house to- 
night, and would go even if I knew a dozen 
cut-throats were lying in wait for me. They 
will find out how we Yankees can use the 
weapons nature gave us, and, in an emergency , 
even come to these play toys,” tapping a re- 
volver that lies upon the table. 

“I wish I was to accompany you,” sighs 
Aleck. 

“Yes, you ’re just dying for action, I know, 
old man, but I go alone; so I told Abdul.” 

“You can ’t prevent my following.” 

“Take care! I might imagine you were a 
rascal bent on mischief.” 

“That would be hard, but if I went I should 
give you some sign. Ah 1 Who ’s this ? ” 

A knock sounds on the door. 

Monsieur Bob gives him one look and places 


76 


Monsieur Bob. 


a finger on his lips, to indicate silence. Then 
he moves across the room and opens the door 
suddenly. 

‘‘Hello! You, Paxton? What brings you 
here? 

A man dressed in a blue suit and with a cap 
upon his head bearing a gold cord, enters, re- 
moving this latter as he does so. Without ap- 
pearing to be too inquisitive, the soldier takes 
a good look at the captain of the yacht, and 
makes up his mind in a trice. 

“ Double-faced,” he mutters under his breath. 

Meanwhile Paxton is explaining what brings 
him to the hotel. Several trivial reasons are 
given, and it strikes Shackelford that the man 
simply wants to see the owner of the yacht 
again, and learn something of his plans. 

The sailor and soldier are introduced and 
shake hands, but when he feels the’cold fingers 
of the yacht captain, Shackelford has a sensa- 
tion like a chill run up and down his spinal 
column ; that hand is like ice. 

He is watching Paxton^s face, too, when Bob 
casually remarks that when they sail Aleck 
will accompany them. It is indeed a study, 
and the quick look of alarm flashing across 
those sallow features, followed by a gleam of 
rage and deep cunning, tells the story. 

Paxton is not disma^^ed; if necessary, he 
will perhaps see to it that the soldier shares 


Monsieur Bob. 


77 


the fate of Monsieur Bob. He is a man who, 
once he has sold himself to the devil, will go 
the whole length of his rope. 

Presently he takes his leave, and Bob turns 
to his friend with an inquiring look. 

You are puzzled, Aleck ? ” he says. 

‘‘Not I, my boy. I can read that fellow like 
a book. He^s a miserable scoundrel, if ever I 
saw one unhung, — shrewd and accomplished, 
but utterly unscrupulous. I warrant you he 
has been engaged in more than one dis- 
reputable piece of business. He ^s the kind of a 
man to blackmail an English lord, if he could 
only find out a weak spot in his past.’^ 

At this Bob laughs heartily. 

“A nice character you give my captain, old 
fellow ; but I know you are up to snuff, and 
I’m ready to believe you. Truth to tell, I 
never much fancied the man myself. Whenever 
he came near me I always had a peculiar feel- 
ing. Yes, he’s a rascal, no doubt of it, and 
I’m afraid will come to a bad end. What in- 
terests you so out there? ” 

“Come here,” says Shackelford, who leans 
half out of the window, looking below. 

Bob reaches his side in a jiffy. 

“Look! The captain moves down the 
square.” 

“What of that? ” 


78 


Monsieur Bob. 


“The Arab stands guard in front of the 
bazar.’’ 

‘ ‘ Oh ! I see — they will meet . ’ ’ 

''Yes ; and if there is truth in the wild story 
Campertown brought me, they will have 
words.” 

" Look ! You are right. He stops suddenly 
and speaks to Achmed; they are conversing.” 

The soldier’s arm draws him in. 

"Just as likely as not they may cast their 
eyes up at this window, and if they see us, 
suspicions will be aroused. We can learn noth- 
ing more at any rate. The truth is, our English 
friend was right; a nice little nest of pirates 
you have on your yacht, my Bob. Pray 
Heaven we ’ll give ’em something to remember 
when once we get off over the blue sea.” 

He takes a sly peep now and then, giving 
Bob an idea as to how matters stand, and at 
last announces that the yacht captain has 
continued on his way toward the wafer. 

By this time the two gentlemen have finished 
their cigars. It has grown almost dark in the 
room, so Bob proceeds to light the lamps, in 
order that they may prepare themselves for 
supper. 

After that Bob has a serious piece of business 
on hand, since he means to dress as a Moor of 
high degree, and trust himself alone in the 
native quarter of the city. 


Monsieur Bob. 


79 


Shackelford seems in good humor, talking as 
no one else can, and forever being reminded of 
strange past experiences. He is always good 
company, this man who has been all over the 
world and seen so much of life. It is not neces- 
sary for him to draw upon his imagination 
when speaking of peculiar things, since he has 
such a fund of genuine recollections to select 
from. 

So he keeps Bob amused. Now and then the 
latter’s thoughts flit away to the scenes of the 
day just closed, or endeavor to follow Nina, 
but Shackelford can see no good in his worry- 
ing over things which are beyond the power of 
his changing, and hence purposely exerts him- 
self to amuse his companion. 

So he cracks jokes, and tells some of his rich- 
est stories by field and flood. A keen sports- 
man, he has shot the world over from India 
and Africa to the wild West, and even the 
mountains of Europe, hunting bear with 
English noblemen, wild boar in company with 
Germans, and shooting wolves on the steppes 
of Siberia. 

Bob is inclined the same way, and hence 
never tires of hearing the veteran tell these 
stories. In return he occasionally relates some 
peculiar incident that comes to mind, and 
which has occurred within his knowledge. 

One yarn of Bob’s interests the captain 


80 


Monsieur Bob. 


greatly, because he chances to know the captain 
of the little coasting p at amar u^on which the 
adventure occurred, and listens with keen in- 
terest as Bob relates how, finally, the two- 
masted trader burned to the water’s edge on 
the Indian ocean, and he with others fell into 
the hands of a gang of Malay x)irates. 

Thus time slips by. 

When conversation runs in this style the 
minutes are hardly noticed, and Bob is sur- 
prised at the lateness of the hour when they 
finally arise to retire. 

‘‘You will go up and help me dress?” he 
says, in a low voice, as they leave the cafe of 
the hotel, where a number of people still dally 
with dinner, or eat ice cream. 

“Certainly, my boy,” responds the captain. 

He is as good as his word, and Bob finds his 
help invaluable, for it is no easy thing to dis- 
guise one’s self as a Moor or Arab. 

Fortunately, his life in the open air and on 
the sunny waters of the Mediterranean has 
tanned his face and hands, so there is no need 
of using any coloring matter. 

Shackelford knows the ways of the natives 
to a dot, and when Bob asks his advice he 
does not hesitate to give it. Thus, in a short 
time the Chicago pilgrim has changed his 
general appearance, and has the outward 
semblance of a Moorish merchant. 


Monsieur Bob. 


81 


When all has been done, the captain looks 
him over critically, and nods his head in ap- 
proval. 

“You ’ll do. Bob, even in ordinary light. Let 
me put you up to several little tricks that 
stamp the Moor as I have seen him at Fez.” 

Thus he coaches Bob, and what the latter 
learns is apt to prove of considerable advan- 
tage. It is not every man who would care to 
pass through the narrow streets and lanes of 
old Algiers after darkness has set in, poorly 
lighted as they are, and thefact of Bob’s going 
proves his courage to be above the standard. 

All is now ready. 

Together they leave the French hotel, and as 
it is nothing singular for a Moorish merchant 
to be seen there, no one pa^^s any particular 
attention to the couple. 

On the square there is a warm grasp of the 
hand, and these two friends separate. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE HOUSE IN THE RUE DE l’aRABE. 


When Bob parts from the captain a last 
word of warning sounds in his ear, and, turn- 
ing, he moves along the grand square. It is 
still a scene of some bustle, lights dispel the 
darkness, and in the pleasant evening quite a 
crowd has collected to promenade and listen 
to the garrison band, which gives an open air 
concert, perhaps because the native fast is 
over. 

Now begins a season of gaiety and rejoic- 
ing among the followers of Mohammed, not 
unlike the carnival at Venice, Rome and other 
places, only in their case the feasting comes be- 
fore Lent, while with Turks, Arabs and Moors 
the fast is first in order. Gay processions will 
be seen on the street; bands of minstrels sing- 
ing songs and demanding a penny from each 
passer-by, which, if refused subjects him to 
trouble; even women are met with on the 
streets during the feast of Bairam, though 
always wearing the veil, through which only 


Monsieur Bob. 


83 


a faint glimpse can be had of handsome feat- 
ures and flashing eyes ; the homely women, it 
may be noticed, wear the heaviest veils. 

Through this crowd Bob makes his way, 
heading toward the quarter where such a pe- 
culiar errand calls him on this night. 

All this light and life will be left behind when 
he draws near the native quarter, for the nar- 
row alleys here are hardly conducive to pro- 
cessions, and when the Arabs desire to do any- 
thing of this sort it is singular how they usu- 
alh^ select the new part of Algiers. Perhaps it 
is beca,use better tolls can be collected there. 

Monsieur Bob knows what he has under- 
taken, and does not underestimate the dan- 
gers ; at the same time he has a peculiar faculty 
for allowing events to shape themselves, and 
when a situation grows too uncomfortable, of 
seizing hold and forcing the game. 

The lighted square is left behind him, and he 
now traverses one of the streets that lead to 
the native quarters. 

Algiers is exceedingly lively to-night, and 
loud voices are heard in every quarter; the 
mosques are lighted within and without, and 
upon his stand on a minaret tower, amid a 
blaze of candles, the muezzin has appeared 
decked in holiday attire not to summon the 
faithful to prayer, but to sound the death of 


84 ^ 


Monsieur Bob. 


Ramadan, and announce the beginning of the 
Mohammedan feast. 

Monsieur Bob sees strange sights, some of 
which amuse him. Bo3^s cast rose- water upon 
pedestrians, especiall^^ foreigners. Mussulmans 
meet, and kiss each other on the shoulder in- 
stead of shaking hands. All is jo}^; every- 
where a blaze of light and loud voices; every- 
where but in the native quarter. 

Here illumination would be folly; the 
small apertures in the walls serving as win- 
dows, the narrow streets and passages many 
of which could be spanned b^^two men, — these 
things discourage any attempt, and it is to the 
modern quarter all turn to celebrate the feast. 

Now he is about the dividing line between 
the old and the new. Looking back Bob sees 
light and festivit^q be3"ond lies gloom and si- 
lence. It is just the difference between the 
present and past, between civilization and bar- 
barism, between the feast and the tomb. 

He shudders involuntarily, and stands a 
minute to see a band of negro minstrels swing 
by, heading toward the Place du Gouverne- 
ment, and filling the air with a deafening 
clamor which they believe to be melody. They 
come to him for a penny and receive a dozen, 
for Bob is only too glad to get rid of the 
racket. Away down the street they dance, 


Moi^sieur Bob. 


85 


and will soon be helping other bands of revel- 
ers make night hideous for the foreigners. 

Somehow Bob Crane feels a singular hesi- 
tancy about entering the native town. He 
has never been here after nightfall, and has al- 
ways believed it especially dangerous for 
Europeans to wander among their semi-dark 
lanes. 

What ails him now? Has the prophecy of 
the old veteran made an impression on his 
mind ? Bah ! Even if Bob Crane knew a dozen 
men were lying in wait for victims in the 
Aloorish quarter, 3^et would he not turn back. 
There are some natures which danger cannot 
daunt, and Monsieur Bob is one of them. 

At the same time he confesses to a peculiar 
feeling such as he has never before experienced. 
He laughs at it, puts one foot forward, and 
plunges into the narrow street. 

Bob keeps his senses about him ; he is a Mus- 
sulman now, and must carry out the character 
he has assumed. When he meets others of the 
same order he salutes them in a natural way, 
only that he appears to be in somewhat of a 
hurry, and will not stop to converse, mut- 
tering half under his breath a phrase or two 
Shackelford has put in his mouth. 

This serves him well, and his disguise is also 
a blessing. The Moorish idea of justice is a 
peculiar one; a follower of Mohammed may 


86 


Monsieur Bob. 


take toll from a Christian dog, and the cadi, 
or judge, will dismiss him with a reprimand 
if the case is tried before him. Should one of 
the faithful rob another, the culprit is apt to 
feel the bastinado^ — a strange method of pun- 
ishment which Bob has seen many an Arab 
suffer. It consists in the offender being tied 
up, and a number of lashes given upon the 
soles of his feet. Bob has heard a poor devil 
howl for mercy, and believed him d^dng, but 
the fellow^s feet are hardened by going without 
shoes, amd when released he shuffles away, 
having stood punishment that might have 
killed an European. 

Being a Moor for the present. Bob is clothed 
in a mantle of protection ; and more than once 
he chuckles as he sees a suspicious looking fel- 
low scuttle by, giving him a wide berth. 

He imagines there must be something about 
his dress to give them an idea that he is one 
high in authority. 

Without incident of note he reaches the lane 
leading up the hill, and known as Rue de 
TArabe. He is now near his destination, and 
good luck follows him. 

The third arch, his direction ran. He begins 
to speculate as to what sort of news Abdul 
Medshid may have for him, and his. thoughts 
even go out to the lovely Zella. That one 
experiencewithAchmedand his child has made 


Monsieur Bob. 


87 


Monsieur Bob very sby with respect to daugh- 
ters of the Orient, and he determines that Zella 
shall not deceive herself with any foolish idea 
that he loves her. 

Ah! here is the house — the second after the 
arch. Bob does not want to make any mis- 
take in this matter. He looks up and down 
the exceedingly narrow thoroughfare. 

A few antique looking lanterns, hung here 
and there, serve to partly dissolve the gloom. 
The rocky street is in reality a succession of 
wide and gentle steps; no vehicles are ever 
known in this section, and a donkey has such 
sure footing that it is easy for these animals to 
go up and down the hill. 

On either side, not more than eight or ten 
feet separating them, rise the ghostly white 
walls with their pigeon-hole windows and 
arched doorways. An Arab is coming down ; 
his bare feet make no sound on the rocky til- 
ing. A number of boys play some national 
game above, but their laughter seems ghostly 
here. One could almost believe himself in a 
great tomb, and, indeed, the whited walls re 
mind one of a sepulcher, as does the musty 
atmosphere.* 

Monsieur Bob stands within the arch of the 
second door. The Arab passes by, flinging him 
one glance, probably of curiosity. Bob’s heart 
beats a little faster than is its wont, for by the 


88 


Monsieur Bob. 


light that conies from the rude lamp above the 
entrance to Abdul’s house, he has had a glimpse 
of the features of this man. 

There can be no mistake! It is Achmed, the 
vengeance-seeking Arab, who has bought the 
captain of his yacht, and plotted to tumble 
him — Monsieur Bob — into the gaping jaws of 
old Vesuvius, where the molten lava boils and 
steams in a lake of fire. 

Of all places in Algiers, why should this man 
be here at this particular moment? The warn- 
ing of Shackelford comes into his mind un- 
bidden. Can it be the truth? Is there any- 
thing in common between Achmed and Abdul? 
He shakes his head, for he has sublime faith in 
the man with whom he ha.s broken bread. At 
the same time he confesses that it is odd, and 
yet singular coincidences occur often enough. 

Peeping out from the arched entrance he 
looks after the man, who goes right on down 
the alley and vanishes in a house below, on 
the same side as the one he is about to enter. 

Although Bob is as firmly convinced as ever 
that there can be no combination between 
these two men, he begins to feel that it is pos- 
sible he may see more of this Achmed and his 
minions before he is through with the night’s 
adventure. Possibly, if the man has recog- 
nized in the supposed Moor the enemy he hates 
so bitterly, he may not be able to restrain him- 


Monsieur Bob. 


80 


self. A bird in the hand is worth two in the 
bush, and there is alwa3^s a chance of the other 
plan miscarrying; dependence on infidel dogs 
brings about such a result. 

Although this meeting may be merely one of 
those unaccountable accidents, Bob feels his 
pulses quickened by it, and resolves to be 
doubly on his guard when on his return. 

Facing the door, he finds, as Abdul has said, 
a bell instead of the usual brass knocker. This 
he pulls in an energetic manner. 

Movements within proclaim that his sum- 
mons is heard, and presently the sound of a 
bar being dropped tells that the door is about 
to open. This is done cautiously, a chain keep- 
ing it from stretching more than six inches. 
The voice of a negress demands his wishes, and 
bending forward he repeats the words put into 
his mouth. 

“Alonsieur Bob’ ^ proves an “open sesame,” 
for the chain is dropped, and the door swings 
back, while the same soft voice bids him enter. 

This he does, andhears the door being barred. 
Then a light springs up, he hardly knows 
whence it comes, and Bob sees the negro girl 
beckoning him to follow. 

• She leads him to the court, along a galleryq 
and at length parts the curtains of a room. 
On the threshold of this Monsieur Bob stands 
almost entranced at the gorgeous spectacle. 


90 


Monsieur Bob. 


The women of oriental climes have a pen- 
chant for beautiful colors, and as their religion 
causes them to appear like nuns in public, they 
make up for this by the most gorgeous sur- 
roundings and dress at home. 

Monsieur Bob is an old traveler, and has 
looked upon strange sights during his wan- 
derings, but never in all his life has he beheld 
such a charming, radiant scene as the one that 
now bursts upon his startled vision. 

In the first place the apartment is brilliantly 
lighted, and sumptuously decorated in the 
Eastern style of upholstering, magnificent 
rugs on the floor, divans ranged along the 
walls, and heavy tapestries covering the lat- 
ter. 

Then the figure of the venerable Abdul Med- 
shid, as he moves forward to greet him, is im- 
posing. He wears a heavy silk robe of a pecul- 
iar shade hanging about his stately person, 
his feet are incased in richly embroidered san- 
dals, and upon his snow^^ head rests a rich, 
white turban that glistens with precious stones. 

One glance Monsieur Bob takes at the host; 
then his eyes pass be3^ond, and drink in the 
most beautiful spectacle the world can present. 

Those who have seen a Moorish lady repre- 
sented upon the stage have a faint conception 
of the genuine. The spectacle Monsieur Bob 
gazes upon is simply gorgeous, and he would 


Monsieur Bob. 


91 


not be human could be look without feeling 
interest and admiration. 

Zella half sits, half reclines, upon a divan, and 
supports her head with one hand, while the 
other toys with a diminutive jeweled dagger 
that is fastened to her waist. Words are in- 
adequate to describe this houri as she appears 
to Bob ; he confesses that she is the loveliest 
creature in the world, and yet too much of a 
doll to be compared with another he knows. 
To suit his nature give him Nina, the girl who 
dared the anger of Mohammed’s followers in 
order to gratify a whim, or carry out a vow. 

Still, with the eye of a connoisseur in beauty 
he takes in the scene as Abdul slowly advances. 
This is about what he sees: the form of a 
Hebe, garbed in the richest fabrics money can 
buy in the East, and from coquettish turban 
to gold-embroidered sandals on her tiny feet 
flash diamonds that sparkle with her every 
movement. Her neck and arms are bare, a 
pearl necklace being clasped about the one and 
diamond bracelets ornamenting arms that a 
sculptor would rave over. A scarlet zouave 
sleeveless jacket, a tunic of the richest embroid- 
ered silk, trousers of pale yellow silk, secured 
at the ankles with gold bands ornamented 
with turquoise, and around her slender waist 
a camel’s-hair scarf that is worth at least a 
thousand duros or dollars, — this is the little 


92 


Monsieur Bob. 


princess upon wlioni Monsieur Bob gazes as 
he might at a marvelous doll in the window 
of a Parisian novelty store. 

Abdul Medshid reaches him, crosses his hands 
upon his breast and bows, which ceremony 
the Yankee copies. Then he bluffly holds out 
his hand, and the other, unable to refuse, be- 
cause of etiquette, gives Bob a mute appealing 
look that puts him on his guard, so that he 
only presses the old man’s hand instead of 
crushing it. 

Then he enters the room, muttering anathe- 
mas under his breath at the thought of ap- 
pearing such a guy in this costume in the pres- 
ence of beauty. He does not know — how can 
he, since Shackelford has failed to tell him, lest 
he make the young giant vain — how wonder- 
fully well the Moorish costume becomes him. 
The sparkle in the e^^es of the oriental beauty 
denotes admiration, not humor, as he is foolish 
enough to think. 

Bob is, however, equal to the occasion, and 
makes his obeisance in a half oriental, wholly 
impulsive style, dropping on one knee before 
the young goddess and raising the small hand 
to his lips. Strangely enough no jewels flash 
upon her fingers, though she wears enough 
upon her turban and garments to effect a 
king’s ransom. 

Her face shows great pleasure; she speaks 


Monsieur Bob. 


93 


French fluently, as Bob well knows, and hence 
he addresses her in that language. 

Thus they converse for a few minutes while 
Abdul stands by, waiting the pleasure of his 
guest. They are very ceremonious, these East- 
ern men, and will never enter a room or be 
seated in advance of their compan3^ The fash- 
ion leaders of New York could get many deli- 
cate points of true etiquette from an oriental 
gentleman ! for their’s is not studied politeness, 
but springs spontaneously from the heart. 

Monsieur Bob has not made this strange 
pilgrimage by night, merely to utter common- 
place remarks; something more serious and 
important has brought him to this house in 
the Rue de L^Arabe. 

Does Zella know, or must he wait until the 
white-bearded old merchant has given his 
charming daughter a signal to retire, before 
he broaches the subject ? 

The words spoken in his ear by Abdul Med- 
shid, when upon the terraces of Mustapha 
Superieur, have not faded from his memory, 
and he sees them yet, as, in letters of fire, they 
flash before his mental vision : 

“A terrible web is being woven around you, 
and I fear for your life.’^ 

Already, within two hours. Monsieur Bob 
has heard a warning— has learned that un- 
scrupulous and wicked men are plotting to 


94 


Monsieur Bob. 


take that wliicli none can ever restore — his 
life. He has heard and treated the matter as 
one might a joke, relying upon himself to gain 
the masteiy of the plotters when once at sea 
on his dand3^ ^mcht. 

This is a beast of another color. 

The conspiracy which Abdtd is to warn him 
of concerns the present; it is at home in the 
old town of Algiers, and he will very likely feel 
the burden speedily. Not only that, but he 
has an idea it concerns one who has grown to 
be very dear to him — Nina. 

Thus, Monsieur Bob shows signs of impa- 
tience, and as e3'es survey him which are ac- 
customed to reading the human countenance, 
old Abdul knows what is on his mind. 

All have been seated some time, and served 
with cake and wine, for an Arab of high de- 
gree is nothing if not hospitable, and this man 
has lived enough among the British in Egypt 
and the French in Algiers and Tunis to have 
imbibed certain of their customs. 

'‘My friend, the time has come to speak to 
you concerning the danger at which I hinted 
during our meeting this day. Are you pre- 
pared, Monsieur Bob, to listen? ” asks the old 
man, who in his robes resembles some high 
priest. 

The young giant replies quietly in the affirm- 
ative, seeking to make it appear that he is not 


Monsieur Bob. 


95 


overly anxious about the matter, but in this 
he deceives no one. 

“When, in our previous brief conversation, 
my friend, I mentioned your having an enemy 
whose hatred for you was something beyond 
the feeling he bore for everyone outside the 
pale of Mohammedism, you immediately 
guessed the true name of that person — a name 
at which men in Algeria shudder when they hear 
it — a name to conjure up the devil and his 
legions by.’^ 

“ Adusta-el-Gaber,’^ repeats Monsieur Bob. 
Men may tremble at that dread name all the3^ 
please; he sees nothing in it to give him the 
shakes any more than is inspired by the pres- 
ence of the dark-faced demon himself. When 
he faced the man in the mosque, his first im- 
pulse was to spring upon him with the fury of 
a tiger, and try conclusions with him then and 
there, for be it known these two did not meet 
there for the first time, but had an old score 
unsettled. The threat made by Musta had, 
however, disarmed him; he could not make a 
prisoner without letting the world of Islam 
and Mohammed know the truth, and turning 
the vengeance of the fanatics in the direction 
of the venturesome Nina, who, to do and dare, 
had come very near creating a riot in the 
Algerian mosque. 

Abdul involuntarily shrugs his shoulders and 


96 


Monsieur Bob. 


glances around him at the mention of that 
name so boldly, while the lovely Zella gives a 
little feminine shriek, though she does not seem 
afraid. 

“You must not ask me howl know this, my 
friend Bob. It is enough for you to learn the 
truth and to guard against it. This man seeks 
not only your life — he would thrust needles 
into 3^our flesh by first securing one whom you 
regard with feelings of love.’^ 

Bob casts a glance toward Zella to see how 
she takes this; he is far from being conceited, 
this American traveler, but that peculiar affair 
with Achmed and his gipsy daughter has put 
him on his guard, and he sincerely hopes there 
will be no second occasion of a similar tenor. 

To his joy he discovers a laughing beauty, 
not a jealous one; this suits his temper exactl^^; 
Shackelford ^s chances grow brighter, and at 
the very first opportunity he will sound the 
praises of the soldier with great pleasure. 

“ Go on, I beg,’' he says, simply. 

The old merchant’s face grows more seri- 
ous and his solemn voice falls an octave lower 
as he continues his story of warning ; this man 
has laid him under a heavy burden of favors 
in the past, and he is ready to pay the debt 
now in his own way. 

“Ah! Monsieur Bob, you love a girl who is 
a mystery to you. She has cast a spell over 


Monsieur Bob. 


97 


your heart. It is needless to blush; why 
should not a brave man love? He, too, craves 
to possess her — that man whose power is so 
great that it reaches even her home” 

At this Bob groans and places a hand to his 
head, as though he has received a blow. 

“I will explain. You know her father was 
French, her mother a Spanish gipsy, supposed 
to be of Moorish stock. She is now in the 
charge of an uncle, her mother’s brother. His 
name is Osman Digna. He is connected with 
the secret revolutionist party whose object is 
the throwing off of the French yoke.” 

“This is indeed news,” murmurs Bob, help- 
lessly wondering how Nina is concerned in it 
all. 

The calm voice of the old merchant goes on, 
and Bob hears as in a dream. 

‘‘Musta-el-Gaber is at the head of this 
league, and it is his purpose to mix Nina’s ca- 
reer with that of the revolution party, so that 
she must either wed him or perish.” 


CHAPTER YII. 


BEWITCHED BY AN HOURI. 

Monsieur Bob with an effort becomes him- 
self again, cool and collected. Already he has 
heard enough to keep him awake nights, yet it 
is evident that the whole has not been told. 

‘Hn that case, I see but one way in which to 
rid Nina of his persecution,’^ he says, quietly. 

“By marrying her yourself?” Ah! but he 
would soon make her a widow.” 

“No, I meant by putting h/m out of the way. 
Algeria will lose no hero when el-Gaber goes 
under the sod.” 

Both of his listeners look upon him with the 
keenest of pleasure; he does not boast, but his 
quiet words mean a grim determination. 

“Great is Allah, and Mohammed is his 
prophet! But I would like to see you two 
meet face to face with yataghan or pistol. It 
would be a terrible engagement, but I would 
pin my faith on you. Monsieur Bob; I have 
seen that arm do valiant service ere now. 
But, mon Dieu! I am not yet done.” 

98 


Monsieur Bob. 


99 


Bob settles back to listen, puffing occasion- 
ally at the stem of the narghile, which is the 
favorite method of smoking with the Arab 
and Moor as well as the Turk, and is offered 
to every visitor after refreshments have been 
served. 

The old merchant's manner is very grave, 
and it is evident that he knows the danger he 
runs by thus paying his debt to Bob. If the 
Arab outlaws or an3^ of his fanatical followers 
ever suspect that he has betrayed their game, 
trouble is sure to come for Abdul Medshid and 
liis remarkably lovely daughter. 

Alonsieur Bob grasps this in a trice, and 
makes up his mind to include them in the sail- 
ing list of the Skip-jack^ providing he can gain 
their consent to go. Of that, he thinks more 
anon, when he has heard all. Perhaps there 
is a little of the sly trickery of lovers in his 
actions, for Zella will be company for Nina, 
and if there is one female on board it may be 
used as an argument to defeat any remon- 
strance that can be raised. Trust a Yankee in 
love for seeing these things. 

He awaits the pleasure of the merchant, who 
hardly seems to know where to begin, but 
finally makes a fresh start. 

While I am not connected with this party 
it has been my fortune to know some of their 
plans. They are weak, and even at the woi^st 


100 


Monsieur Bob. 


the French will puff out the insurrection with 
little effort. I tell 3^ou this because I have 
sworn never to breathe a word of it to a 
Frenchman. You are an American, Monsieur 
Bob; YOU will promise not to betray me? ” 
“Willingly, since you tell me the affair can 
never amount to more than a flash in the pan ; 
but if I thought there was going to be an3^ 
such terrible scenes as marked the Sepoy re- 
bellion in India, I would warn the com- 
mandant,” says the man from Chicago, firml^^ 
Abdul sends a ring of smoke into the air; 
he seems perfectly composed, while Zella, list- 
ening eagerly to all that is said, nods her 
pretty head in approval of Bob’s words. 

“There would be no need. I have positive 
assurance that the general is already aware of 
all that takes place in the Arab councils. He 
is not the man to sleep over a magazine.” 
“You mean he has spies ? ” 

“ His gold has bought more than one dog of 
an Algerian, and long before the hour comes 
for the blow to be struck, every man of promi- 
nence in the conspiracy will be in irons. Rest 
assured. Monsieur Bob.” 

“I fear not, friend, the promise is yours. 
Kindly continue your interesting tale.” 

“When I learned, indirectly, that 3^ou were 
concerned in this vengeance of el-Gaber, I de- 
termined to warn you, Th^t man is a power 


Monsieur Bob. 


101 


in Algiers ; liis war cr}^ sounded in these nar- 
row streets, would bring scores of fierce and 
bloody men to the spot, ready to do his bid- 
ding, regardless of consequences. He can 
cause you much trouble, and perhaps bring 
about your death unless you fly. Will you 
take warning and go ? ” 

“I have a fine yacht in the harbor, my good 
friend, and I expect to leave Algiers on her 
some day, but not alone,” says Bob, biting his 
words off sharply in a staccato manner. 

“Ah ! ” remarks Abdul ; “all the world loves 
a lover. Monsieur Bob.” 

“Iff go, Ma’m’selle Nina accompanies me. 
I also hope to have one Abdul Medshid and his 
charming daughter on board.” 

The two exchange glances. 

Perhaps the idea strikes Zella favorably, for 
again she nods and looks pleased, so that wise 
Bob, knowing how this oriental beauty really 
winds her severe but doting father around her 
fingers, considers his case won. Nevertheless 
it may not go amiss to thrust several pins in it 
or make sure of it. 

He goes on to describe the alluring voyage 
they will have, visiting Rome, Venice and other 
cities he has heard both Zella and her father 
express a desire to see, until finally Abdul 
raises his head and smiles. 


102 


Monsieur Bob. 


“Eiiotigli, Monsieur Bob. You tempt us be- 
yond all power of resistance.’’ 

“ Then you promise to go ? ” 

you can give us an hour’s notice we will 
endeavor to go with you. I desire that my 
child shall see something of the world, for my 
faith in Mohammedism has left me, and I be- 
lieve in your religion, which tells us a woman 
has a soul, and was not made to serve as a 
doll in the house of her master. 

Bob looks pleased. 

‘‘What you say gives me great satisfaction. 
I shall have a few friends on board, possibly 
two, besides M’a’mselle,” and then, seeing the 
chance, he puts in a few words for Shackelford, 
whom Abdul has met before, thereby arousing 
Zella’s curiosity, just as he has expected. 

Still, the old merchant is not done; he has 
something else on his mind. 

“I have learned that el-Gaber means to ac- 
complish his purpose within the next twenty- 
four hours. In truth, when darkness again 
falls, he has arranged to carry off the girl you 
love.” 

“So soon,” mutters Bob, who looks as 
though he could fly to the boudoir of his be- 
loved, and carry her away by main force. 

“Yes; as he has the good will of her uncle, 
and every inmate of the house, with perhaps 


Monsieur Bob. 


103 


one exception, in his pay, you may know what 
you have to strive against.” 

“ That one person is her maid ? ” 

Yes, a French girl, Nanette.” 

‘‘I knew it, because it was she who warned 
me the rash ma’m’selle had made a vow to wit- 
ness the ceremony in the mosque on this last 
day of the fast.” 

“Now great is Allah, and as Mohammed is 
his prophet I never heard of such a thing! ” ex- 
claims Abdul, holding up his hands in amaze- 
ment, and unconsciously using a phraze that 
has become second nature with him. 

As for Zella, her eyes open wide ; she begins 
to realize that in the great world of which she 
knows so little, her sex is on an equality with 
the sterner one, though perhaps this escapade 
of Miss Nina is hardly the best introduction 
she could have to the ways of the world. 

Of course Monsieur Bob must tell the story; 
both of them beseech him, and he is forced to 
comply. The brave are ever modest, and Bob 
touches lightly upon his own share of the little 
adventure, though his hearers, knowing him of 
old, can imagine that he took no tame part in 
the rescue of the daring girl. 

The threat of Musta-el-Gaber warns them 
that this man has a fertile brain, and will not 
scruple to descend to any level so long as his 
purpose is accomplished. 


104 . 


Monsieur Bob. 


Thti$> the talk becomes general, and even Zel- 
la has a part in it. On all sides the situation 
is discussed. Abdul declares he will be ready 
to go on board the yacht with Zella at dusk 
on the following evening. Monsieur Bob is 
struck with dismay" at the thought of the va- 
rious trunks and boxes that may be needed to 
carry the wardrobe of this Oriental beauty. 
Being a blunt man he puts the question, offer- 
ing as an excuse that he would like to make 
preparations for getting them aboard. 

The merchant and his daughter laugh, as if 
understanding his dilemma. 

Make your mind easy. Monsieur Bob ; 
when we start out to see the world, it shall be 
in the costume of the French. Zella will bid 
goodbj^e to all this Eastern finery. What 
would you say to one small trunk ? asks the 
merchant. 

At this Bob is aghast. 

“No, no,’’ he cries, “make it half a dozen; 
leave nothing that you may wish to possess ! ” 

“One — then call it two. That will suffice. 
We will send the rest by steamer to Rome.” 

“Good. Sometime I should like my friend, 
the captain, to see Zella as she is now. He has 
heard me speak of her, and old traveller that 
he is I am sure his eyes have never been glad- 
dened by so lovely a spectacle,” this with a 
salaam in the direction of beauty, whose 


Monsieur Bob. 


105 


bluslies chase each other over face and neck, 
and who mentally resolves then and there that 
this brave friend of whom Bob is always talk- 
ing shall have an opportunity to see her in the 
national costume, if she has to send forty 
trunks by steamer, for she does not think much 
of even the richest French dresses, though rec- 
ognizing their utility in allowing her to travel 
without attention. 

Then the3" once more talk of their plans, and 
the details are arranged, as Bob is a stickler 
for having things work in apple-pie order. 

He asks questions and learns a number of 
facts which have either escaped the merchant’s 
attention, or else were deemed of too trivial 
importance to be mentioned in his story. 

To Bob they loom up distinctly, and he can 
even hang the skeleton of a plot on their 
hooks. It is the small factor that often proves 
to be the entering wedge; many a tremendous 
matter has originated in a trifle ; the kick of a 
cow set Chicago in flames; the clamor of a 
goose saved a Roman eitadel. 

Bob is in his element, that is certain ; action 
agrees with him, for his face brightens and his 
whole manner shows alertness. 

It has always been characteristic of the man, 
and one would hardly recognize the listless pil- 
grim of yesterday in the A^oung Colossus who 
to-day flings himself into the breach and grap- 


106 


Monsieur Bob. 


pies with appalling difficulties as though he 
really enjoyed it. 

Some men are only at their best when pur- 
sued by troubles; editors write their most 
trenchant articles while the devil” waits for 
more copy, and seizes each sheet before it has 
fallen to the floor. Monsieur Bob’s abilities 
awaken as the necessity increases, and in a 
crisis he is one in a thousand, — alert, power- 
ful, and ready to take advantage of the first 
break on the part of the foe. 

By this time Bob’s trails of character must 
have become familiar to the reader, so that 
there is no further need of words in connec- 
tion with their peculiarities. 

The evening is passed agreeably. 

Zella plays upon a mandolin and does her 
part to entertain the guest. Oriental ladies 
are not such inane dolls as some travellers 
would lead us to suppose, but have their ac- 
complishments, which, however, are reserved 
for the home. 

Zella is far beyond the average of her class, 
both as regards education and observation, 
and 3' et Bob cannot compare this beauty with 
one he knows, not so lovely, without feeling 
that he has chosen wisely, since in Nina he will 
find a congenial companion for life, and not 
merely, a being to admire. 

Bob knows that the customs of this coun- 


Monsieur Bob. 


107 


try are peculiar. Girls reach maturity at 
about fourteen, and are married then. It is 
about impossible to find old maids in Algeria, 
since not to be married is a disgrace. 

How comes it then this houri remains single? 
She must be at least sixteen, and a thousand 
men in Algiers would risk their lives to call her 
their own. The fact of the matter lies with 
Abdul’s change of heart. Since he has left the 
tents of Islam, he realizes the absurdity of 
many customs prevailing there; he will not 
sell his child ; God has made her a human be- 
ing, and her father believes she is talented ; so 
that instead of a master among his race, he 
would find her a husband with the foreign el- 
ement; one who would love her and share 
his affection with no other wife. 

That is where the shoe probably pinches 
with him ; Zella might be the sultana in some 
great Turk or Moor’s harem until her charms 
began to fade, when a new wife would be 
brought in to fill the place of honor and rule 
over her and the rest. 

It must not be. Bob believes more than ev- 
er in his little scheme for entangling the cap- 
tain. Since his last conversation with Aleck 
he realizes that the man’s armor is not quite 
so impenetrable as Shackelford has boasted, 
and perhaps these glorious liquid orbs of the 


108 


Monsieur Bob. 


maiden may do the business, or as Bob elegant- 
ly puts it ‘^cook his goose.” 

As for Zella, he does not believe there will be 
much trouble in that quarter. He has already 
aroused a keen cariosity within her heart to 
see the soldier. 

Bob only prays she may look u^Jon his friend 
when in action, feeling that then her heart 
must be surely won, little suspecting what in- 
tensely stirring scenes are on the tapis for 
them all in the near future — situations that 
will certainly keep the wolf blood in his veins 
from becoming stagnant. 

He has spent a very pleasant evening after 
all, in spite of the fact that he is in a garb for- 
eign to his habits. Indeed, he has forgotten 
all about that, in the midst of such oriental 
splendor, with the dreamy eyes of the charm- 
ing Zella almost fascinating him, the sweet 
notes of the mandolin tingling in his ears, the 
incense of the tobacco burned in the narghiles 
used by himself and Abdul, and the measured 
words of that reverend person, it is not at 
all strange that Monsieur Bob has come to 
believe himself a Moor in truth, and forgets 
to note the lapse of time. 

Perhaps, while under the spell of those won- 
derful orbs. Bob may have half wished he were 
in truth what his garb would proclaim, and 


Monsieur Bob. 


109 


that this magnificent creature belonged to 
liim. 

From force of habit his hand seeks his watch; 
he does not find it where he looks, simply be- 
cause he wears no vest. This arouses him to 
seek further, and he remembers fastening the 
time-piece inside his rich bournouSy where he 
now finds it. 

Eleven o’clock ! 

Bob comes to with a jump. 

Really he must be going. It is hard to break 
away from such pleasant company. He feels 
that he has been dreaming, just as do the lotus 
eaters of the East. This will never do for a 
man of his build ; besides the situation demands 
prompt action. With such dangers surround- 
ing not only himself but the being whom he 
loves, this idleness is folly. 

Thus the little scene is broken up ; Zellaplays 
her mandolin no more, but hides it from sight 
with a sigh that gives poor Bob some uneasi- 
ness; you see that incident connected with 
Marhara is still fresh in his mind, and one 
frenzied Achmed seeking his life is quite enough 
for him. 

He bids the beauty good night, and trusts 
that when next he sees her it will be on board 
his dandy yacht. Orders will be given to have 
a boat at a certain landing at sundown, and 
they can take advantage of the darkness to 


110 


Monsieur Bob. 


have their trunks conveyed thither, and with 
a guard proceed to the same spot themselves. 
It is not unusual in the old parts of Algiers on 
some dark night, to see an Arab magnate en- 
route, protected by a trusty guard and pre- 
ceded by link boys as in days of old even in 
London, when the streets were not illuminated, 
and there was danger from robbers to anyone 
who stirred abroad after darkness fell. 

Abdul accompanies him to the door, and, 
finding the occasion favorable. Monsieur Bob 
relates what connects him with Achmed, who 
is not unknown to the merchant. 

‘You say you saw him enter the house be- 
low?^’ asks the other with clouded brow, as 
though he sees something in this to cause deep 
thought, if not alarm. 

Bob replies that it must have been, as he 
did not pass through the arch. 

“He may have simply stepped inside the 
arched doorway to watch me,’’ he adds. 

“If he suspects you, perhaps it will be well 
for Monsieur Bob to remain.” 

“ Here, you mean ? ” 

“ Yes. That man would stop at nothing to 
injure one he hates.” 

“Bah ! ” with a shrug. 

“There is another plan.” 

“Well?” 

Bob is amused, and only to humor his old 


Monsieur Bob. 


Ill 


friend does he listen, since his mind is already 
made np. 

“You are an agile man, Monsieur Bob; you 
can use a rope to advantage ? ” 

“I have done so. ” 

“Then listen; beyond the court there is a 
room that looks into the grounds of the old 
mosque; Monsieur could be lowered from a 
small window; it is forty feet to the bottom. 
Then, by climbing a wall he would find himself 
upon another street. Do you agree? ” 

“A thousand thanks, my friend, but I am 
going as I came. If that Arab tiger gets in my 
way, so much the worse for him. Bob Crane 
doesnT turn and crawl for one Arab, 3^ou can 
bet your shekels.^’ 

“But he may have others.” 

The American’s hand displays a revolver. 
“I have six good friends here, Abdul, not one 
of which will fail me. Let Achmed go slow, or 
he will lose the number of his mess. Good 
night ; shake hands ; I promise not to be too 
fierce. I may need all my strength yet, who 
knows ? Remember, the quay after sundown ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER YIII. 


AT BAY UNDER THE THIRD ARCH. 

Bob hears a whispered tob laU{gooA night). 

The door closes gently behind him, though 
he can catch the clank of the chain that secures 
it against the entrance of a robber. Bob stands 
for a minute within the little arcade just in 
front of the house entrance. 

Although he has affected to disdain the pos- 
sibilities of a secret attack, and has utterly re- 
fused to aYail himself of the other chances 
offered by Abdul for escape, it must not be sup- 
posed that Bob is a reckless fool. 

He knows the dangers that beset his path as 
well as any one, but he has a contempt for the 
Arab character, at least such as is represented 
by the fanatic Achmed. 

None but cowards lie in wait to stab a man 
in the back. Monsieur Bob experiences that 
same feeling for them that actuates the big, 
honest Newfoundland dog, at whose heels a 
pack of mangy curs snap; you have seen it 
illustrated, doubtless; he pays no attention to 


Monsieur Bob. 


113 


them at first until some brute, growing bolder, 
snaps at his legs; then Mr. Big Dog whirls 
around, and how the hair does fly, while the 
demoralized curs 3"elp like mad, limping away 
right and left, after which the honest dog re- 
sumes his career as though nothing out of the 
ordinary has happened. 

Yes, such an illustration applies happily in 
the case of Bob Crane, whose temperament is 
much like that of the good-natured Newfound- 
land. Take a dozen breeds of dogs and you 
will find their kind in the human class — the 
honest mastiff, the snappy terrier, the cunning 
greyhound, the dandy pug, the ferocious bull- 
dog, the mongrel cur, and — the list could be ex- 
tended indefinitely. 

Bob waits only to make sure that he is in 
condition for business. Already has he glanced 
at his revolver. This he now holds in his left 
hand, hidden in the folds of his bournous. 

He mutters something against the peculiar 
garments that drape his figure; if it comes to 
a lively encounter he hopes his movements may 
not be impeded, for, although the costume of 
a Moor may appear very free and easy to one 
who is to the manor born, a novice is apt to 
get his arms entangled in the loose flowing 
robe. 

This is a contingeiiC3^ he does not wish to 
face, hence his dela^^ within the arcade. 


114 


Monsieur Bob. 


When Monsieur Bob finally glides out into 
the Rue de I’Arabe, and begins to descend the 
little terraces or modest steps of stone which 
mark the hillside street, he finds that a change 
has certainly taken place since his arrival. 

True, the isolated and smoking lanterns hung 
at each arch and over a house door or two, in 
a spasmodic effort at illumination, continue to 
burn in their decrepit way, but it is not their 
fault that the narrow street is less gloomy 
than when Bob ascended it. 

Much more than two hours have elapsed 
since then, and a change has occurred. The 
stars no longer reign supreme in the turquoise 
heavens above ; from her watery bed in the 
east, just beyond the land, the fair queen of 
night has sailed into view. True, she shows 
sign of approaching decay, and has the ap- 
pearance of a clipped dollar, but, for all that, 
shines with undiminished glory. 

Although she is now more than an hour high 
very little of her flood of light manages to en- 
ter this cleft between the walls known as the 
Street of the Arabs. Probably in the whole of 
her nightly cruise across the heavens she will 
not peep into the alley more than half an hour 
at the most. 

Still, the white walls gather her reflected 
light, and Bob realizes the benefit of having 


Monsieur Bob. 


115 


them this ttniversal whiteness, instead of red 
or yellow or brown. 

He is pleased with the prospeet; hardly any 
one likes darkness when abroad, unless their 
thoughts are evil, and Bob has an idea that 
grows stronger with each passing second, to 
the effect that Shackelford’s premonition of 
danger hanging over his head may be realized. 

Under such circumstances, with half a dozen 
frenzied Arab foot-pads lunging at him with 
yataghan and creese, he will be ready to bless 
the good fortune that thus gives him the op- 
portunity to see just where to plant each stag- 
gering blow, and send each leaden messenger. 

Bob no longer lingers. 

He hopes for the best, yet holds himself in 
readiness to meet the worst, which policy is 
general among brave men. 

The glance which he has cast up and down 
the narrow calk, as he would call it in Spain, 
has shown him an apparently deserted thor- 
oughfare. 

Silence does not hover over Algiers; far 
from it. The revelry will probably last all 
night, but it is pretty much confined to the 
quarter where the streets admit of crowds, 
and the processions of jubilant Mohammedans 
can have full swing. 

Not a living soul does Bob see. 

This does not convince him that his move- 


116 


Monsieur Bob. 


ments are un watched, for with almost every 
yard there is a capital hiding place along the 
route; dark door-wa3^s, arches where the black 
shadows cluster, niches in the walls that look 
as though just made to contain the body of a 
lurking assassin ; yes, the opportunities are as 
plenty as blackberries in July ; all that is need- 
ed is the motive. 

Bob knows that is here in himself. 

He reaches the door below that of Abdul 
Medshid, and casts a glance over his shoulder 
that way. The darkness is intense just there, 
but Bob has keen eyes. 

Is that a figure cowering within? He has 
half a notion to walk over and see, but on sec- 
ond thought believes that such a move may 
only bring about discovery and trouble in case 
the person should prove to be some ordinary 
Algerian standing in his doorway. 

So he goes on. 

Just five seconds pass hj, when Bob regrets 
not having carried out his first idea. 

From behind he hears a sudden whistle that 
comes directly from that doorway. There can 
be no mistaking the nature of it. He knows a 
signal when he hears it. A signal for what ? 
Why to mark his assassination ! 

The place is just at the third arch in the Rue 
de TArabe, where the white stone covered 
with Arab characters tells of some tragedy 


Monsieur Bob. 


117 


away back m the history of Algiers that no 
doubt took place on this spot. 

Really, a better situation for sueh a dastard- 
ly assault could not well be found ; they can 
leap upon him from their hiding places like a 
paekof wolves upon a deer, and unless theman 
thus assaulted is above the ordinary traveler 
he -must be overwhelmed almost before he has 
a chance to cr3" out. 

Monsieur Bob has no need to revolve these 
things in his mind, for at such a time a man 
aets from intuition. His judgment may ocea- 
sionalh" be wrong, but not in more cases than 
would happen did he ponder over the matter. 

There is really but one thing for him to do. 
Some men might have attempted flight down 
the roeky stairway leading to the base of the 
hill, which action must have thrown them up- 
on the very weapons of the assassins who 
plunge from their concealment below. 

The Americanos ideas run in an entirely dif- 
ferent groove. When the sharp whistle tells 
him that an assault is imminent he immediate- 
ly throws himself into a position of defense. 

This is done b}^ placing his back against the 
white wall of the house near which he is stand- 
ing. Thus, like a wise general in battle, he 
protects the rear, and can give full attention 
to what occurs in other quarters. 

Nor is he any too soon, quick though this 


118 


Monsieur Bob. 


action has been. The apparently deserted 
road-way no longer deserves that name; it is 
very much alive now. Figures have leaped in- 
to view ; they come from doorway, niche and 
arch ; every shadow seems to yield up its spec- 
ter, ragged rascals indeed, the scum of an Arab 
town, but just of a species to carry out a mur- 
derous design. 

Bob is somewhat taken aback at the num- 
ber that swarms into view like vermin. He 
has expected three or four perhaps, but a round 
dozen— Jove! That arch, already celebrated 
for some bloody scene in the past, may yet 
mark a modern battlefield, where one undaunt- 
ed Yankee stood his ground against a rabble 
of dark-skinned marauders. 

They give him no time for thought; a voice 
spurs them on, and comes from the doorway 
above; a voice that is shrill and penetrating 
with tremulous rage and anticipation, but 
which Bob recognizes as belonging to Achmed. 
In Arabic he calls aloud : 

“Take him alive— double the reward if he is 
made a prisoner! I would burn his heart with 
fire ; I would cut his tongue out by the roots ! 
He must not die now. Three times the reward 
if he is captured alive ! ” 

Monsieur Bob only smiles and waits, well 
knowing how that favors him. Were they 
doubly as strong in numbers yet would he de- 


Monsieur BoE. 


ilS 

fy them to make him a prisoner. What are his 
steel muscles for? Not to dawdle in the society 
of ladies, but to help him out of just such a 
scrape as this. He knows lie can depend on 
them ; hence his smile. 

The men-wolves rush in upon him; then 
the wisdom of his choice of position is made 
apparent; for with the base of the third arch 
on one side, his enemies are restricted to a cer- 
tain space of ground over which they can ad- 
vance, and Bob has an idea he can take good 
care of this. 

At any rate he soon has an opportunity to 
show what he can do in that line. The fore- 
most Arab comes flying at him with arms ex- 
tended as though it is his intention to clasp 
the foreign devil and hug him until his compan- 
ions can lightly tap him on the head. 

Monsieur Bob politely declines such affec- 
tionate regard, and sends his regrets in a truly 
Yankee way, printing four knuckles upon the 
rabid Arab’s dark countenance. 

It is a serious business to the wretch who re- 
ceives this compliment, but Bob grins to see 
him go flying back into the arms of his friends ; 
his retreat has been, if anything, just a trifle 
faster than his advance. 

Will this check the rascals? Hardly, since 
they allow their reckless leader to drop to the 
stones, and try the effect of a combined rush. 


120 


Monsieur Bob. 


They find Bob Crane very much at home, and 
he lands his blows with sledge-hammer accura- 
cy and dispatch upon those who come within 
reach of those long arms. 

It is not the first time in his life that Bob has 
had reason to congratulate himself on the box- 
ing lessons taken from the quaint professor 
who for some years kept a den on West Mad- 
ison street, Chicago, where boxing and fencing 
bouts were of nightly occurrence. In roaming 
around the world there can be no telling what 
strange situations a man may find himself in, 
and a thorough knowledge of the art of self- 
defence is apt to come in very handy at times. 

The young giant’s arms work like flails, and 
he whacks the cowardly Arabs about as though 
they are bundles of chaff. 

They cannot break his guard ; not one has 
succeeded in giving him a blow, until a chap 
from behind drops a piece of stone over the 
heads of his companions on top of Bob. It 
makes him dizzy for a second or two, when he 
goes at it again, hammer and tongs, with even 
more vim than before, because now his blood 
has been spilled. 

A snake-like figure creeps along the rock 
and endeavors to grasp the valiant Yankee by 
the legs; but although Bob is busy with his 
hands he notices this scurvy trick. 

One of those fancy, pointed-toed boots. 


Monsieur Bob. 


121 


which up to now he has looked on as a de- 
lusion and a snare, suddenly shoots forward 
with the force of a young cyclone. Upon the 
night air the concussion is plainly heard; Bob 
grins to see the venturesome Arab mow down 
a whole line of his swarthy compatriots, even 
while at the same time the Yankee secretU 
groans as he thinks he has almost dislocated 
his toe by the violence of his exertion. 

Never mind ; the^^ are fast learning some- 
thing, these jackals of the desert. They have 
found it impossible to capture their prey ; will 
they now seek to take his life? 

When Bob sees the gleam of knives and yat- 
aghans and hears the Arabic maledictions, 
he realizes that a new phase in the midnight 
duel is about to be inaugurated. Now is he 
willing to meet them half way. He can feel the 
blood trickling from the cut in his head. Some- 
how it makes him more furious than ever. 

Up to this moment he has held his own with 
his fists, and given his dark-skinned adversa- 
ries more than the^^ bargained for; but since 
they no longer heed the order of their master 
to take him alive, and seem determined upon 
ending the matter then and there. Monsieur 
Bob realizes that the time has come to adopt 
other tactics. 

When a man’s life is in danger he is quite 
right in defending himself the best he knows 


122 


Monsieur Bob. 


how, and inflicting as much damage on his 
foes as his ingenuity and power can accom- 
plish. 

Bob no longer hesitates, but draws the faith- 
ful weapon, his revolver. It has doubtless 
been through strange seenes in its day, but none 
more remarkable than the one that just at' 
present occupies attention. 

There is not much choice of an objeet at 
which to exercise his aim, as the Arabs are ad- 
vancing upon him en masse. Such is their 
eagerness to reach him that they even get in 
each other^s way, and create something of a 
block, which may prevent them from using 
their weapons to advantage. 

Bob opens fire. 

He means to make his shots count, since 
there are a dozen foes and only six bullets. No 
man eould be more collected under similar cir- 
cumstances, and the hand that holds the re- 
volver points it as steadily as a rock. 

There is a report,, heard above the medley cf 
Arable jabbering. Bob seeks to wound rather 
than slay, but at the same time he desires that 
every shot shall relieve him of an enemy. 
Hence he puts a bullet through the shoulder c f 
a tall chap who, waving a cruel weapon, has 
been prominent in endeavoring to get at him. 
A change immediately comes over the spirit oi 
his dream, and he no longer has a fervid am- 


Monsieur Bob. 


123 


bition to cut down the white man. Instead, 
his shouts have turned to those of pain and 
fear. His frantic endeavors are now devoted 
to escaping from the scene, and he shows a 
laudable desire to run. This creates something 
of a commotion among the assailants, which 
feeling it is Bob’s ambition to strengthen as 
thoroughly as possible. 

He fires again. 

Just at the same moment a shout is heard up 
the Ruede I’Arabe; a shout that warms Bob’s 
heart and gives him encouragement, while at 
the same time it creates dismay among the 
rabble of dusky foot-pads; a shout that is 
American in its vigor, and rings through the 
narrow defile, crushing the chatter of the 
Arabs and even overwhelming the shrieks of 
the man who has Bob’s bullet ifi his shoulder. 

Keep it up. Bob ! Give it to the jackals! 
Don’t let one of ’em get away ! We’re on deck 
here! We’re coming like a two-twenty team. 
Camp, and yours truly ! Knock the spots out 
of ’em, I say. Bob, old fellow! Let no guilty 
man escape. Here we are, right side up with 
care. Now for some fun ! ” 

The Arab dogs hear and tremble; they know 
an avalanche of some sort is descending upon 
them from above. Those in the outer ranks 
manage to flit down the shadowy street like 
spectres racing back to their tombs. 


124, 


Monsieur Bob. 


Some there are who cannot do this, and upon 
this little squad the storm bursts. Blows 
sound upon the night air with startling dis- 
tinctness, and are in turn succeeded by the 
shouts of pain and fear from the utterly de- 
moralized pack of Arabs. 

More than one hearty kick is given, and the 
downward flight of some terrified wretch ac- 
celerated thereby. Even Bob joins in this last 
rush, and the field is speedily cleared, the Arabs 
departing with astonishing celerity. 

^‘Victory!” screeches a shrill voice, and a 
small figure in a very loud suit, with his coat 
sleeves actually turned up at the wrist for fear 
of soiling them, executes an involuntary horn- 
pipe upon the street ; then, seeing a draped fig- 
ure sneaking out of an arched doorway near 
by and skulking up the narrow avenue, the 
aroused Campertown makes a break in that 
direction, uttering his slogan, which is nearer 
a shriek than a shout, and gallantly assists 
the demoralized Achmed to climb the heights 
beyond by a few well-directed applications of 
shoe leather, judiciously applied. Bob is re- 
minded of the assault of a little hornet, but as 
this insect can generally cause the bravest to 
show the white feather, such is the unique ter- 
ror inspired by its business qualities, so Ach- 
med is filled with dismay by the strange object 
hammering away at his rear, and vanishes up 


Monsieur Bob. 


125 


the gap amid a flurry of screeches, scampering 
legs and fluttering bomnous. 

Captain Aleck sounds a recall ; hecanimitate 
the notes of a cavalry bugle to the life, and the 
signal appears doubly peculiar when heard be- 
tween these high walls. 

“This way, Camp, my boy — no time to be 
lost. We must get out of here or before we 
know it a nest of black hornets will be singing 
about our ears. This way, I say,’’ he sends 
his voice roaring up the defile. 

The Englishman in the check suit hears, and 
values the opinion of his friend too highly to 
hold back. He comes trotting along and 
shakes hands with Bob gravely ; the latter is 
careful about his grip in this case, because he 
knows the fragile quality of the goods he han- 
dles, his past experience qualifying him to be 
a judge in this line. 

Of course all this racket cannot take place 
in the Rue de I’Arabe without attracting at- 
tention, and Shackelford is justified in desiring 
to hurry away from the vicinity. 

The Arabs are clannish, and will always 
unite against the hated foreigners ; this feeling 
is not so bitter with regard to the English and 
Americans as the French, their conquerors; 
but at the same time the3^ do not stop to ask 
the nationality when an Arab is seen to be in 
trouble with one not to the manor born. 


126 


Monsieur Bob. 


So tlie three hasten to the foot of the hill. 
They meet with no opposition, which is just as 
well, for they are in a frame of mind to make it 
very unpleasant for any persons desperate or 
foolish enough to face them. 

Looking back Bob thinks that he has made 
a very lucky escape. Probably he would have 
defeated the Arabs alone and single handed, 
after opening upon them with his revolver, but 
all the same he feels under obligations to those 
who have ventured into this quarter after dark, 
and risked much for his sake. Such friends are 
worth having, and Bob Crane is proud of 
them. 

A few shadowy figures flit before them, but 
they do not meet a solitary soul while on the 
way down. The Honorable Felix keeps along- 
side by means of a peculiar hop, skip and jump. 
It is impossible for him to remain quiet ; Ije 
chatters like a monkey, and while his jabber is 
generally of a nonsensical order, nowand then 
the little man gets off a remark that contains 
the concentrated essence of wisdom. 

One is tempted to laugh at him, and then 
again he occasionally inspires respect. Be- 
tween the two his friends are kept continually 
guessing what break Campertown will make 
next. 

Once at the foot of the hill they start for the 
Place du Gouvernement. Bob is anxious to 


Monsieur Bob. 


127 


reach the hotel ; his head needs attention, for 
it has bled considerably, and his turban is 
ruined as a souvenir. 

Both his friends accompany him. He has a 
curiosity to know how the little Englishman 
comes to be in the company of the soldier, and 
puts the question as they jog along. Shackel- 
ford takes it upon himself to answer. 

‘^There’s a story connected with it. Bob. 
Have patience, old fellow, you shall hear all 
when you’ve lodged at your hotel, and have 
that miserable cut on your head attended 
to. I hope it won’t injure your beauty, my 
lad.” 

”No fear of that, Aleck,” laughs Bob. 

“Of course if it does, 3^ou can have no chance 
in the game for Nina, alongside such a dashing 
old chap as myself,” pursues the captain. 

“Oh! your goose is cooked, old man. I’ve 
got Zella picked out for you.” 

“The deuce you have! I like that; pairing 
me off without my having ever seen the girl.” 

“Just wait; you’ll have your breath taken 
away. And she’s going on the yacht with us. 
We’ll be a merry party, I reckon.” 

Shackelford puckers up his mouth as though 
to whistle, but his face shows nervous alarm. 
This old fire-eater, who can face belching can- 
non, trembles in the presence of a lovely wo- 
man. 


128 


Monsieur Bob. 


Thus they arrive at the grand plaza, and at- 
tracting as little attention as possible among 
the crowds that still throng that central local- 
ity, reach Bob’s hotel, where the Chicago pil- 
grim leads the way up to his luxurious apart- 
ments. 


BOOK TWO. 

t 

Planned Under the Shadow 
of the Yataghan. 



CHAPTER T. 


THE HONORABLE FELIX CAMPERTOWN 
TO THE FORE. 

^‘Ah! this is comfort/^ remarks Bob, when 
he has lighted the lamps in his apartment and 
dropped into a chair, for although he will not 
confess it, the excitement and loss of blood 
combined have had an effect upon his nerves. 

Shackelford alone refuses to be seated, for he 
knows that cut needs attention. Pouring out 
water, with sponge and towel he comes to 
Bob^s side and insists upon cleansing the 
wound. He is gentle as a woman in handling 
it, and finding the cut smaller than he expect- 
ed, draws the edges together with little strips 
of plaster. 

‘‘You ’ll feel somewhat sore around the crown 
of your head for a day or two. Bob. Pardon 
my clipping a little of the hair off, but it won’t 
show. It’s a lucky thing that stone didn’t 
strike a few inches forward. What’s milord 
about?” 


132 


Monsieur Bob. 


^‘Drinking in beauty; always awfully fond 
of moonlight ; beastly shame it don’t last for- 
ever,” replies Campertown, deftly rolling a 
cigarette and applying a match. 

He must consume at least fifty of these a day, 
which perhaps accounts for his nervous tem- 
perament. As the tobacco he uses is of a first- 
class quality, his friends do not object as much 
as they would were they ordinar\" cigarettes 
he thus consumed. 

Truly the sight is a glorious one. The bay of 
Algiers, as the harbor is called, lies there bathed 
in that mysterious light ; objects appear, but 
not with decided form ; ships with white sails 
stand out, and they can even see a coasting 
felucca gliding along, heading for the open sea. 

‘‘Yonder lies the dandy little S/ap-jacA,” re- 
marks Bob, proudly. Several lights mark her 
position, but for which they would have hard 
work to believe the dark spot upon the water 
could be the yacht, so uncertain does the hazy 
moonlight make the most familiar of objects. 

Although the noon of night has come they 
make no move toward retiring. Their thoughts 
are bent upon unraveling the strange myster- 
ies that seem to be involving Bob in their folds, 
just as a spider fastens the venturesome fly in 
the delicate yet powerful tracery of his web. 

Fortunate man, Monsieur Bob, to have such 
faithful friends as these two antipodes; the one 


Monsiede Sob. 


133 


large and with bulldog courage, the other 
small and snappy, 3^et not entirely lacking in 
those admirable qualities that make the man. 

How do 3'ou feel? ” asks Shack at length. 

^‘Just like haying a smoke; take a cigar, 
Captain. No use offering ou one, milord. As 
for Bob Crane, the taste of that villainous nar- 
ghile is still in my mouth, and I shall have to 
burn incense in my favorite meerschaum before 
I feel that I am forgiven. 

“A beautiful combination! See here. Camp, 
suppose you toss that thing out of the window 
and smoke like a man,” remarks the soldier. 

The English beast laughs good-naturedly. 

When I get a man’s stature I may, Captain. 
As it is, these ‘things,’ as you call ’em, suit me. 
Best Turkish tobacco; a duro a pound, by 
Jove! What more would you ask? Roll you 
one?” 

‘‘Thanks; this weed suits me.” 

“Now for the stor}^” remarks Bob, who has 
succeeded in starting the fire upon his altar. 

“After 3^ou, my boy,” says Aleck, grimly. 

“What?” 

“ Beauty before age. Tell us what you saw, 
what you heard, what you did. I’m interested, 
\’ou know.” 

“In all pertaining to Zella ? ” quickly. 

“ Well, if you must have it so, of course,” re- 
plies the veteran with unblushing assurance. 


134 


MoNsiisuR Bob. 


^‘Confusion take ’em/^ says Bob,sotto voce^ 
‘‘here’s another man gone wrong.” 

Shackelford gasps, and then laughs aloud. 

“ Bob, 3^ou rascal, I never thought you heard 
me say that in the garden of the mosque. 
Serves me right, though. Some things, like 
chickens, generally come home to roost. But 
go on. We are deeply interested in you and 
yours. There’s Campertown, ready, like a 
British mastiff, to shed his last drop of blood 
for Bob Crane.” 

“Only what Bob would do for me. Count 
on me. Although deficient in stature I’m a 
tiger in action. Bet j^our shekels on it, mes- 
sieurs,” bites off the little man in his jerky way, 
as though afraid lest too man3^ words escape 
him. 

Thus adjured. Monsieur Bob cannot refuse 
to give his stor3^ He has nothing to conceal 
from these friends. They are all in the same 
boat, or at least hope to be when the yacht 
leaves Algiers harbor and heads for Italy. 

Both listen attentively. 

Strange how dangers will cluster around a 
certain individual. An old proverb tells us 
that “it never rains but it pours,” and as they 
learn what new snares are being laid for the 
feet of the you n^ g iant from Chicago they real- 
ize, as never before, that there is some truth in 
this saying. 


Monsieur Bos. 


135 


British and American soldiers have a repu- 
tation as hard fighters, no matter what the 
odds, and this national trait has impressed it- 
self upon many representatives of these coun- 
tries. The more appalling the difficulties, the 
more determined such men become ; they nev- 
er give up the ship until unable to strike anoth- 
er blow. When Bob has finally related his re- 
cent adventures, and told all that Abdul Med- 
shid has poured into his ears, Shackelford puffs 
away in silence for a short time, as though 
pondering over the sum and substance of 
what he has heard. 

“I am done. Suppose you tell me how it is 
milord happens in your company. Captain,” 
says Bob, who seems quite at ease in his chair, 
puffing away occasionally, and looking out 
at the moonlit waters of the lovely bay, just as 
if he has not recently passed through quite a 
serious array of adventures. 

‘‘Camp, suppose 3^ou spin the yarn,” sug- 
gests the soldier, maliciously, as though it is 
possible for the Britisher to get through a sto- 
ry in his explosive way. 

“ After you, dear boy. I shall listen and cor- 
rect if you go astray ; schoolmaster abroad ; 
see ? Now, there ’s a good fellow ; you see, if I 
neglect this delightful cigarette, out it goes, 
and gives me a dreary world of trouble; there^s 
a good fellow. Let’s have the plain, unvar- 


136 


Monsieur Bob. 


iiislied tale/' and after delivering liimself of this 
address, the Honorable Felix sets to work up- 
on his miserable weed in a manner that sug- 
gests the lack of a good mustard plaster on 
the back of his neck, to assist him with its 
wonderful drawing powers. Shackelford sees 
no escape, and pretends to make himself out 
a martyr, but in truth he is always ready to 
do the yarn-spinning, a fact possibly known to 
the little Englishman. 

‘‘You remember, Bob, I half gave you to un- 
derstand that I meant to keep an eye on you 
in this affair, and secretly I was wholly de- 
termined to be in the vicinity of the third arch 
when you came out of Abdul's house. 

“I say ‘came out,' for I had already made 
up my mind that harm would not come to you 
on your way there. 

“I saw you safely through the square, and 
then sauntered up and down. There was plen- 
ty to see, for the madcaps are out in force to- 
night, and the square reminds me of Rome 
during the week of the carnival. 

“I walked up and down, enjoying the sights 
and flirting with some pretty French grisettes 
who showered me with rice and rosewater 
from the windows of their flat every time I 
passed. 

“Revenge was in my mind, and I had re- 
solved to play a neat little trick in return when 


Monsieur Bob. 


137 


I discovered that the hour was growing late. 
If I meant to be on hand for 3^ our little circus 
it was time I started for the Rue de I’Arabe. 

“Just as I was turning my footsteps in that 
direction who should come up but Camper- 
town, seizing hold of me like^a London bobby 
fastening to a modern Jack Sheppard.’’ 

At this allusion milord grins and chuckles, 
and delivers himself of these words : 

“ Run my legs off looking for Bob, by Jove ! 
He beats the Irishman’s flea. Only one way 
to hold the fellah — stick a pin through him,” 
and Campertown, having actually neglected 
his miserable cigarette for seven whole seconds, 
falls upon the expiring weed with a vigor that 
looks as though he had a spite against it. 

Shackelford proceeds in his quiet wa3" ; he at 
least never spoils a story by being in a hurry. 

“When milord informed me he was looking 
for Bob I supposed he had learned more about 
the beautiful plot which ends with a tableau 
on the top of old Vesuvius, and is called ‘ The 
Arab Sorcerer’s Revenge.’ It turned out, how- 
ever,- that his news concerned other matters, 
even one whose daring almost cost her her life in 
the mosque not ten hours ago.” 

At this Monsieur Bob springs up. 

“Confusion! You don’t mean Nina?” he 
cries. 

The soldier nods griml3^ 


138 


Monsieur Bob. 

“That’s just who it is When I heard this I 
resolved to take Camp in ; at least into my 
confidenee. So I told him I knew where you 
were, that danger menaced, and unless we 
made it a point to stand by and help, the 
chances were he would have to deliver his mes- 
sage to a dead Bob.” 

“Message? ” 

Shackelford goes on, unheeding the interrup- 
tion. 

“He heard me out and quickly decided to fly 
to 3^our assistance. You have seen yourself 
what he was capable of. There’s only one 
thing I regret in all this business, about 
Camp.” 

“Eh? ’’cries the worthy referred to. “By 
Jove ! What can that be, my dear boy ? ” 

“That we have no lovely inamorata picked 
out for the brave Briton; it is too bad,” says 
Aleck, with a long face and a deep sigh. 

But Campertown smiles sweetly. 

“Ah ! Beg pawdon, but just you let the Hon- 
orable Felix manage his own affairs. Take 
my word for it, he won’t get left. Bob hasn’t 
the onl3" angel in Algiers. Reflected light, my 
hojy is often as strong as the original. Hang 
the luck ; give me a light, my deah fellow. This 
beastly cigarette has become extinguished 
again.” 


Monsieur Boe. 


13^ 


The captain strikes a match and hands it to 
him. 

“Thanks, awfully; you’re very kind. I was 
afraid the powerful odor of your weed would 
injure the delicate aroma of my Turkish tobac. 
Again, thanks, my good Captain.” 

Shackelford snorts and makes no reply, but 
puffs away rather savagely for a minute, dur- 
ing which Monsieur Bob moves uneasily in his 
chair, and finally bursts out with : 

“Come, you speak of a message; who car- 
ries it ? I want to know.” 

“I’m the proud dispatch bearer,” replies the 
Briton, as he arises and begins to explore the 
capacious pockets of his wonderful plaid suit. 

They seem limitless in number, and all the 
while he dives into this receptacle and that, 
Campertown is muttering his fear that the 
missive might have been lost at the time he 
put forth such unusual exertion in assisting 
the revenge-seeking Achmed up the Rue de 
I’Arabe, all of which is, of course, torture to the 
anxious Bob, who is rapidly reaching the point 
when he feels he must seize this queerly-built 
chap and hold him up by the heels, so that the 
document ma^^ fall from his pocket. 

Just as Bob deliberately lays his pipe down 
and shuts his teeth together, as if about to put 
some such desperate plan into execution, the 
antics of the English beast cease. He smiles 


140 


Monsieur Bob. 


in a heavenly manner, and holds aloft a billet 
doux in a tantalizing way. 

Another moment and Bob has clutched it; 
his eyes are glued upon the writing, and they 
can see that he is deeply interested. 

He looks up, and his eyes wander to milord, 
who deliberately inserts his spy-glass before his 
right optic and returns the quizzical gaze. 

‘‘How came this in your possession?’’ de- 
mands Bob. 

Campertown squirms uneasily. 

“Come, now, is it quite necessary for me to 
tell that? ” he asks, disconsolately. 

“Certainly,” puts in the soldier, “why 
should you object? We want to know all 
about it. To the point, milord; it’s 3"our 
turn.” 

The Honorable Felix groans, and then, 
strange to say, grins like a monkey. He twirls 
his glass, plucks at the diminutive Dundreary 
whiskers close to his ears, and, for a wonder, 
forgets all about his adorable cigarette. 

“You see, it’s rather tough on a fellah to 
confess all his little amours; but by Jove, she’s 
a dais3Maght from the start, and I’m bound to 
make her Mrs. Campertown if I have to wade 
through oceans of gore.” 

“ What ! Nina ! ” cries Bob, distracted, as 
his fingers work convulsively, and he mentally 


Monsieur Bob. 


141 


figures how he shall begin to dismember the 
Briton. 

With a superb affectation of surprise, which 
almost sends Shackleford into a spasm, the 
Englishman coolly looks at Bob through his 
abominable glass, and slowly ejaculates: 

“Who said anything about your Nina? By 
JoYc! I have reference to my Nanette; do yon 
hear, gentlemen ? PositiYcly my Nanette ! ” 

“ Good HeaYcns ! It’s the maid he has in his 
mind!” gasps Bob, unwittingly, unmindful of 
the frightful look of freezing contempt which 
Campertown bestows upon him. 

Shackleford rushes to the rescue; he sees that 
there is danger of the little man breaking off 
in his story then and there, to defend the 
whole combination of ladies’ maids in general, 
and the one named Nanette in particular. 

“Nanette; I haYC seen her. Charming girl, if 
I do say it; congratulate you, my boy. 
Deuced sharp thing of 3"OU. Must forgiYcBob ; 
there’s no fool like a lover, you know; can see 
no face but that of the star he worships. Ha! 
rather there yourself, you know, chappie. 
Now suppose you give us the story, and stop 
trying to murder our friend Bob with daggers 
in your eye. Go on.” 

Thus he wheels the Briton into line. 

The Honorable Felix is hardly the man to 
have any deep feelings; his nature is pretty 


142 


Monsieur Bob. 


much upon the surface, and this show of ruf- 
fled dignity is all a pretence — one of his jokes. 

He removes the glass that gives him that 
stony stare, waves his hand good naturedl3s 
and once more assumes an affable expression. 

^‘The apology is accepted. No hard feelings, 
I assure you. Bob, but you must be careful, my 
dear boy. The man who trifles with the sacred 
name of Nanette must answer to me — to mc^ 
gentlemen,’’ smiting his chest fiercely. 

‘^Thunder! He’sgotitbad, Bob. Sureenough, 
here’s still another man gone wrong. I tell 
you this business is dangerous; it’s as catch- 
ing as the measles, by my soul! ” and the sol- 
dier shakes his head solemnly, as though he 
fears there is no use in his endeavoring to es- 
cape the contagion. 

Let me consider,” muses Campertown, with 
a tap on his brain-box from his fore finger, as 
though to stir up the machine within. 

“By accident I met Nanette, whom I once 
knew in Paris, where fate separated us; fate 
in the shape of a six-foot hussar, to whom she 
was engaged or married, I forget which, posi- 
tively. 

“ My first question was about him. Jove! 
The big chap had had the good sense to kick 
the bucket, and Nanette, maid or widow, I 
don’t care which, is free to accept my devotion. 

“This very day I accompanied her home 


Monsieur Bob. 


143 


It was evening, and I vowed I would spend an 
hour or so in her company. She tried to per- 
suade me to retire, but I am an obstinate man 
when I make my mind up, and Nanette knows 
it. Jove! In Paris I wanted to stand a duel 
with that giant hussar lover of hers, but Nan- 
ette — ” 

“Stick to your story, man,’' growls the cap- 
tain. 

“Well, I had my way, as I generally do. 
We sat in the garden above the terrace, for the 
lovely moon had come up. You know, dear 
boys, love and moonlight go hand in hand. 

“While we whispered sweet nothings in each 
others ears I heard a voice from the house. 

“ ‘Nanette I Nanette ! ’ it called. 

“ ‘ It is my dear lady,’ said Nanette ; ‘ remain 
here and E will return to you.’ 

“Well, I hated to let her go, you know, but 
she was off before I could think twice, the lit- 
tle sprite. I hugged the spot — ” 

“ Poor fellow ! But then you had to keep in 
practice, I suppose,” mutters Shackelford, still 
gazing at the silvery moon. 

The Honorable gives him a contemptuous 
look, chuckles a little, and then proceeds. 

“I repeat, I remained on the spot sacredly, 
never moving an inch, until finally I heard my 
charmer coming, when I embraced the oppor- 
tunity—” 


144 


Monsieur Bob. 


‘‘Meaning Nanette,” from the captain. 

“Have it your own way, dear boy, I make 
no exception. I proceeded to discover what 
had taken her charming self away from me. 
What do you think she said? Monsieur Bob !” 

“Ah ! ” says that worthy, giving deep atten- 
tion. 

“Yes, she simply mentioned that name. I 
became jealous at once; told her I would plant 
Monsieur Bob underground; threatened all 
manner of dreadful things. She laughed at 
me, and held a letter before my eyes. 

“‘You have told me you knew him. My 
sweet mistress loves him ; she would get this 
info his hands before two hours have gone. 
She wrung her hands in perplexity; how could 
it be done ? She dared not let me go out upon 
the streets at such an hour. Ha ! A brilliant 
thought comes to my mind. I, Nanette, re- 
member that you are his friend. How charm- 
ing ! It is all arranged ; I swear to her that 
note shall be in his hands before I sleep ; so I 
have brought it to you, my own ; I transfer 
the vow to you. See to it that you obey.’ ” 

Campertown would make an admirable act- 
or, for he imitates the voice and manner of a 
French girl to the dot. He has numerous ac- 
complishments, this queer specimen of humani- 
ty, and they only need a fitting opportunity 
to show themselves. 


Monsieur Bob. 


145 


“Which you did — after claiming toll, per- 
haps?’^ says the captain, seeing the British 
specimen about to roll another villainous 
cigarette, and fearful lest they can draw noth- 
ing further out of him when once his brain is 
turned upon such a subject, which generally 
rivets his whole attention. 

“Never mind about the toll ; leave a Camp- 
ertown alone for collecting his due. Mon ami, 
there is the note. What more can you ask ? 

Shackelford leaves him in despair to worship 
at his idol’s altar, while he turns to Bob. 

“Well, old man, suppose you let us hear 
what this wonderful note contains, that neces- 
sitates a delivery at the dead of night,” he re- 
marks soberly. 


10 


CHAPTER II. 


bob’s letter. 

The face of Monsieur Bob has been a study 
during this period. When Felix, in relating 
what the girl has said, boldly states that Nina 
loves this man, he seems to suffer no pangs 
from false modesty, but smiles broadly. It is 
sweet to know this fact, even when the intelli- 
gence comes in such a round-robin way. 

Shackelford’s request is reasonable enough, 
and Bob sees no excuse for refusing it. He 
does even more than the other asks. 

“ Come, take it to the light. Captain. Read 
it aloud, so that our good friend here may 
also understand why Nina was anxious 
to get it into my hands as soon as possible. 
The cowardly curs! See if I don’t make ’em 
suffer for this business, as sure as my name’s 
Bob Crane! ” 

With that he falls to puffing away furiously 
at his pipe, and raises such a cloud of smoke as 
to completely envelope both the Briton and 
himself, from which sepulcher the Honorable 
Felix emerges, coughing and rubbing his eyes, 


Monsieur Bob. 


147 


while he at the same time sticks desperately at 
his own overwhelmed solace. 

What exposttilations he might make are, 
however, lost sight of, for Shackelford comes 
to time, having examined the scrap of paper 
on all sides, using a pair of eye-glasses in order 
to facilitate matters. 

‘^Ah! Exquisite chirography,’^ hemurmurs. 
Bob nods his head in the midst of the slowly 
retiring cloud that is being gradually sucked 
out by the draught at the window. 

Well turned 'sentences, too, by my soul ! ” 
Will 3^ou ever read it out? ” demands Camp, 
standing there, all attention. 

delicate aroma hovers about it; one can 
easily imagine it comes from a fairy bower,” 
continues the irrepressible free lance. 

‘‘That is my favorite perfume,” grins the 
Specimen. 

“Yours?” 

“I always scent my handkerchief with it, 
hence — but draw your own conclusions, gen- 
tlemen.” 

“Hang you, Campertown, always spoiling 
my best efforts. Makes me think of a fellow I 
had with me once when I visited the Trap- 
pist convent beyond the hills. He was some- 
thing of a doctor, — a taleb, they call such a 
man here. You see we had been to the Hydra 
Chateau vineyards, and sampled the delicious 


148 


Monsieur Bob. 


wine in the caves dug into the rocky hill, where 
it is stored to give it age. To make a long 
story short,’’ noticing that Campertown is 
slowly beginning to turn back the sleeves of 
his coat, as though threatening to resort to 
desperate means, ‘‘this doctor, being in a play- 
ful mood, endeavored to get off some practical 
joke on me at every turn, but overdid the mat- 
ter when he tapped a bottle of native cham- 
pagne I was holding, with his cane, for bless 
me if the cork didn’t take him in the e3^e, and 
half the contents deluge him. We had to carry 
the wretched taleb outside to dry — ” 

“But this is n’t to the point,’’ exclaims Camp- 
ertown. 

“Right you are, my boy. We’ll settle down. 
Here, then, is the note you brought our mutual 
friend Bob Crane. Listen, ye who have ears, 
to what the aforesaid note contains.” 

The captain has reached the point at last, 
and Felix assumes an attitude of expectancy, 
with his dapper legs, encased in the wide, loud- 
checked trousers, crossed and locked. It is 
an artistic pose, probably gleaned from some 
Piccadilly tailor who paid Campertown to ad- 
vertise his latest fad. 

The captain bends over the note and reads: 

Monsieur Bob: 

“You will pardon me for addressing you, but in a case 
like this etiquette must be forgotten. I write because I 


jMonsieur Bob. 


140 


have learned something that interests you deeply ; because 
you are my friend. I have an under-maid who calls herself 
Debora. She is beautiful, but I fancy has the temper of a 
vixen, and she hates Monsieur Bob, why I know not. By 
a strange chance I heard, not half an hour ago, a conversa- 
tion between Debora and her lover, an Italian who passes 
as a count, though I doubt his claim to the title. The price 
of her love is your death. I shudder to think of it, but the 
case is desperate, and God knows we have need of all our 
wits. Let me be myself, so that I may tell you all I know 
now. That terrible name — Musta-el-Gaber — was mentioned 
in the matter, and I believe this wretched girl is in league 
with him. Oh! Monsieur Bob, if you would only board 
your yacht and fly from here. Do not come to my house ; I 
fear they mean to trap you here. Dark clouds seem to sur- 
round even my life, and I would to Heaven I were safe in 
Paris. Even my uncle and guardian I dare not trust. But 
I did not start out to tell my woes, only to warn you that 
you have enemies. This Count Morisini is a dark man with 
a black mustache, slightly curled—” 

“I know the beggar; met him in Naples; he's 
the biggest villain unhung,” interrupts Camp- 
er town. 

“ — and has a terrible eye. If he is among the circle of 
your friends, beware of him. It worries me because I can- 
not tell exactly what they mean to do. Perhaps I may 
know more to-morrow, but it will be difficult to communi- 
cate with you, as Debora has vowed to watch my every 
movement. I see but one chance. To-morrow, Friday, is 
the Mohammedan Sabbath ; women then visit the grave- 
yards, where no man is admitted. If you had a friend to 
enter there we could converse, for Debora will feel safe and, 
not watch me there. We go to the old cemetery on the 
crown of the hill known as Bouzareah. I do not know what 
else to advise. Again, be watchful, my friend. It would 
grieve me to hear that harm had befallen the brave Mon- 
sieur Bob, who saved me this day from the result of my fol- 


150 


Monsieur Bob. 


ly. If you have good friends in Algiers now is the time to 
call on them. Sail from this place as soon as you can, and 
when you are safe upon the blue seas, do not forget one 
whose unhappy fate compels her to remain here. Nina. 

“ P. S. I forgot to tell you that more than once I have 
heard Debora speak the name Marhara in her sleep, and be- 
lieve it belongs to her. ” 

That is all ! 

To the Briton it is not so significant as the 
others find it, for he has never heard of one by 
the name of Marhara. No wonder Monsieur 
Bob finds food for thought. What strange 
fate brings this dark -faced girl who hates him 
so intensely, under the same roof that shelters 
his beloved ? Is there a dark design back of it ? 

As for Shackelford, he utters a low whistle 
that indicates the serious nature of his 
thoughts. 

Bob, old man, you’re in a deuce of a mess, I 
do declare. Three distinct forces working 
against you. Well, we are three here; what’s 
to hinder our grappling with one apiece and 
teaching ’em how the English-speaking race 
can win? ” 

Tliis cheery voice and the words he speaks 
s?rve to buoy up Bob’s spirits, which are rath- 
er inclined to droop just at present. He puts 
out his hand and taps the soldier’s arm. 

'‘Mark that name, Marhara, will you.” 

“I have done so; it is the girl who hates 
you because you refused to return her fierce 


Monsieur Bob. 


151 


love in Alexandria; the daughter of Achmed, 
whom he bdieves to have committed hari-kari 
in the Nile/’ 

Light at last ! ” exclaims the Specimen. 

They believe he means that he understands 
it all now, not knowing that Camp’s mind is 
capable of stretching even beyond such a space, 
and grasping a plot. 

“She has drawn this Italian into the game; 
he is no stranger to me either. Count Morisini 
and I have met before.” 

“ Indeed ! Where was that. Bob ? ” 

“Just outside of Naples. He grossly insult- 
ed a lady of my acquaintance; I knocked him 
down ; he challenged me to a duel ; we met in 
a retired spot with swords. He is known as a 
dead duelist, so I reckon it was more by good 
luck than anything else that I managed to 
puncture his shoulder, and as his sword arm 
was useless the seconds declared the affair 
closed.” 

“Bah! You’re too modest by half, old fellow. 
I ’ve seen you handle the foils. Look at that 
wrist. Camp; ain’t that a dandy for power? 
Never mind. We must put on our thinking 
caps, and see how best we can manage to de- 
feat these combined forces.” 

“You are very kind, boys,” murmurs Bob. 

“Kind? Come off, old man! Why we’ve 
just been crying out for some such chance as 


152 


Monsieur Bob. 


this for a long time back. All you have to do 
is to put yourself in the hands of your friends.’’ 

‘‘Don’t think I’m going to lie back and let 
you do the brunt of the work. You’ll find me 
in the thick of the fight every time,” cries Bob. 

“Hurrah! That’s the snap 1 ” says the Speci- 
men, who acts as though he has something on 
his mind. 

“Well, let’s talk the affair over.” 

“What do you think of the letter?” asks 
Bob. 

“A rather peculiar structure, but with traces 
of genius in its make-up, especially the sugges- 
tion by which she can communicate with us 
and not cause Marhara to suspect.” 

“That’s it,” says Campertown, eagerly. 

“You must write to her. Bob, tell her your 
love, and declare that you will not leave Al- 
giers unless she accompanies you ; that if she 
desires to keep you here to meet your fate she 
can do it by refusing; you know how to put it 
into the right language ; hang me if I do ! ” 

“Yes, yes, go on,” breathes Bob, deeply in- 
terested. 

“Proceed, my dear boy,” remarks Camper- 
town, hardly able to retain his seat from ex- 
citement. 

“Don’t forget to tell her about Zella; you 
know that will do away with certain scruples 
she might have about fleeing with you.” 


Monsieur Bob. 


153 


‘‘A deuced good point; anything more? 

‘^Yes. Arrange the whole business for to- 
morrow night, so we can rescue her if she is 
kept a prisoner, and take her to the yacht. 
There ’s no telling how we can get any further 
communication to or from her again.” 

“You can safely leave all that tome. Captain. 
I will explain thoroughly, and keep a copy of 
the letter for reference. Consider that part of 
the business as settled.” 

“Good!” 

“Now that^s one thing. It’s another to dis- 
cover a method of placing this letter in her 
hands without the sharp eyes of hate, as em- 
bodied in the Arab girl, seeing her.” 

A chuckling sound is heard. It proceeds 
from the Honorable Felix, who is discovered 
with both hands clawing away at his diminu- 
tive side whiskers as though making sure of 
their presence, or bidding them a sad farewell. 

“Ah! my dear boys, that is just where I 
enter into the delightful game,” he drawls. 

“You?” cries Bob. 

“ I shall enter the Arab graveyard to-morrow 
and deliver your note to Ma’m’selle Nina.” 

“But, my dear fellow, it is a strict rule that 
no man shall enter on that day; the women 
unveil themselves there. You couldn’t get in,” 
says Shackelford, shaking his head". 

“Ah! I shall go in disguise as a modest 


154 


Monsieur Bob. 


young English girl. I can take it off to the 
life.^’ 

“IVe no doubt, but you forget one thing, 
Camp.” 

‘‘Eh? WhaCsthat?” 

“Those whiskers; they’d give you away, 
dead sure. I don’t believe they allow freaks 
in there.” 

The Specimen draws himself up to his full 
height and raps his chest. 

“They shall be sacrificed, sir, to friendship,” 
he says, with tremendous importanee. 

At this both of the others, although almost 
bursting with suppressed laughter, profess the 
most extravagant concern. 

“Cut off your whiskers ! That is too much, 
my dear Campertown. Think of your friends 
passing you by on the street,” says Aleck. 

“I know it is a great sacrifice, but it, ah, 
pleases me to make it. Say no more, I beg. 
When the time comes, count on me,” replies 
the Honorable. 

“ W^s ever a man blessed with such friends? 
Surely success is bound to come when my com- 
panions stand ready to make such sacrifices in 
mj^ behalf. My dear fellow, how can I thank 
you?” and Bob, in the exuberance of his 
mingled emotions, would seize the Specimen by 
the hand, only that Campertown, not caring 
to trust his digits in that grip, turns on his 


Monsieur SoE. 


155 


heel and trots to the window to have another 
look at the wonderful seene spread out there. 

Monsieur Bob and the soldier of fortune in 
the meantime have a talk, during which the 
whole matter is cai^vassed in as thorough a 
manner as possible. 

If the young girl will only consent to go on 
board the yacht they think it can all be nicely 
arranged. Much depends upon the persuasive 
tone of the letter Bob is commissioned to write. 
It must, so Shackelford says, “be a clincher.^’ 
Bob must plead his great love, and then resort 
to the threat that no matter what happens he 
will not leave Algiers unless she, too, consents 
to fly. 

To make sure that no point will be forgotten 
Bob notes down the different items. 

“Makes me think I’m a parson, and these 
are the different heads of my sermon,” he re- 
marks. 

Shackelford grunts. 

“We sincerely hope the affair will terminate 
before a parson. Bob; ” he says, maliciousl3^ 

“Yes, doubly so, old fellow.” 

“Come, come, those jokes glance off* my ar- 
mor. Why, man alive, I haven’t even seen this 
girl.” 

“So much the better for your peace of mind. 
At any rate you have thought a good deal 
about her.” 


156 


Monsieur Bos. 


Oh ! come off, Bob ! We’re discussing your 
affairs now. If it ever comes about that I’m 
in the same box, I promise to ask your advice. 
Meanwhile, let us get this matter settled, for, 
d’ye know, I’m getting sleepy,” with a yawn. 

“I see nothing more to be done. Wh3" not 
lie down here and sleep ? I have business that 
will probably keep me up the balance of the 
night.” 

Just so. I suppose that letter will be the 
biggest job of your life, man.” 

‘‘Well, you see, I’m a novice yet. When I 
get your age, if I’ve not settled down, perhaps 
I may have your experience.” 

“But we can’t stay. Camp, where do you 
put up for the night? ” he asks. 

“At a little family hotel around on the other 
side of the square — good beds, fine service and 
no animated life. Come with me, dear boy ; I 
have a suite — two beds and all,” replies the 
Honorable Felix, in a warm manner. 

“Bless you, my boy, your heart is as large 
as a pumpkin; I’m sure it will be the death of 
you yet. Yes, I’ll go and weleome; beastly 
long walk to the private house where I have 
been putting up. What d’ye say. Camp; 
hadn’t we better leave Bob to eonstruct his 
billet doux in peace ? ” 

“Wise thought; Shackelford; great brain, 
that of yours, dear boy. Look here. Bob, what 


Monsieur Bob. 


157 


the deuce is that recj light burning on your 
yacht at this hour of the night? ” 

Bob Crane has always been something of a 
yachtsman at home in Chicago, and kept the 
finest little craft that ever skimmed the blue 
waters of Lake Michigan. He has grown to 
think highly of the Skip-j tcky just as a horse- 
man might come to idolize an animal that 
pleases his eye and more than fulfills his expec- 
tations. 

Hence, when Campertown draws attention 
to the little vessel, he immediately puts his 
head out of the window and looks off in the 
quarter where he knows she swings at anchor. 

A red light is burning on board; twice it 
vanishes and appears again, only to finally die 
out. 

^‘Undoubtedly a signal, but made for whose 
benefit I can ’t say,’^ muses Bob. 

“I hope that beast of a Paxton may not 
take a notion to clear out,^^ mutters the sol- 
dier. 

Bob shakes his head in a negative way. 

“No danger of that, I reckon,’^ he says. 

“ What do you found your faith on ? 

“The hatred of Achmed.^’ 

“Ah ! yes ; something in that.’^ 

“Besides, Paxton doesnT want to run away 
with the yacht; it’s the money that has been 
promised him he’s after.” 


158 


Monsieur Bob. 


believe you are right, Bob. Aclimed 
wouldn’t think of going without you, and the 
captain can’t sail until he has done the first 
half of his ugly work. No, he’ll be there on 
time; but that signal meant something.” 

“Yes, the rascal is up to all manner of tricks. 
Nothing would surprise me now, after what I 
have learned. Our enemies, so far as we know 
them, consist of Musta-el-Gaber, Paxton, Ach- 
med, his daughter Marhara, and the Italian 
count.” 

“Not forgetting the men under Paxton.” 

“And the followers of el-Gaber,” finishes the 
Briton, who has followed these remarks. 

“Quite a galaxy of stars.” 

“ We hope to leave a portion of them in the 
lurch when we set sail from Algiers harbor. ’’ 

“ Napoleon’s tactics ; alwa3^s believed in ’em. 
Divide the foe and whip each half separatel^^” 
remarks Campertown wisely. 

“You are just about right, my dear boy. 
There’s one chap we haven’t included in our 
list who may give us trouble.” 

“Ah! you mean — ” 

“Nina’s uncle — Osman Digna.” 

“ I do n’t calculate he’ll worry us much. But 
if he does, we can group him with the rest, and 
bundle them all in together.” 

“ I see nothing more to consult about.” 

“Not at present. You get that letter done ; 


Monsieur Bob. 


159 


and see here, Bob, perhaps it wonld be well to 
appoint some method of receiving a reply. We 
ought to know whether she will go.^’ 

‘‘ Bless you, that's a fact ! " and he makes a 
dive with his pencil at the paper in order to jot 
down another “head." It will be a wonder- 
ful letter when done, and if Nina is able to re- 
sist its sophistr3^ she will be more than human 
— above the average of her sex. 

The two friends now prepare to depart, 
and each solemnly gives Bob the tip of his 
fingers to shake ere leaving the room. 

“The best of luck. Bob," says Shackelford, 
with more than his usual earnestness. 

“Letters of fire; put it down solid, and the 
game is yours. Trust my experience, m3' dear 
boy," whispers the little Briton. 

Somehow Bob hates to see them go— he has 
become greatly attached to them, and it is 
when dangers gather around that we see the 
true colors of those we call friends. 

The door closes after them, and he can hear 
their footsteps dying away along the corridor 
of the hotel. Monsieur Bob is alone. 

He looks at his robes, and with an expres- 
sion of disgust, hastens to resume his own gar- 
ments. When the change has been effected he 
feels easier, and more like himself. His head 
gives him no pain ; indeed, he has forgotten all 
^bout his hurt in the bustle of business. 


160 


Monsieur Bob. 


Placing paper, pen and ink on the table, 
with the lamp near by, he sits for a while in 
deep thought. Then he begins to write. 

The pen scratches away until several pages 
have been accomplished. Then Monsieur Bob 
is worked up into a nervous state ; he springs 
to his feet and strides up and down the room 
very much like a caged tiger. 

His eyes fall upon the box of cigars on the 
side table; a heavenly, eager smile sweeps over 
his face, and instantly his hand is outstretched 
to grasp a weed ; almost savagely he bites off 
the end, holds the cigar over the lamp, and 
when he finally draws a good whiff, the grunt 
of pleasure is plainly heard, for he has satis- 
fied that gnawing anxiety within. 

Bob gazes out of the window in the direction 
of his yacht. He can make out something of 
her form, while the riding lights are plainly 
visible in her rigging. 

As he looks he ponders. Will success come to 
his standard? All depends on Nina. This 
same old moon will hover over the romantic 
bay of Algiers on the following night; will it 
look down upon his dandy little craft with 
sails set, speeding past xebec and baggala, 
outward bound, with himself and the charm- 
ing Nina on deck, taking their last glimpse of 
Algiers, nestling along the hills. “ God grant 
it,’’ is the fervent prayer Bob breathes, as in 


Monsieur Bob. 


161 


his mind he sees this happy conclusion to the 
inanilold difficulties that at present beset his 
path. 

He heaves a heavy sigh, as lovers generally 
do, runs his fingers through his hair, and is re- 
minded that he has a cut there; then once 
more sets to pacing the room with a knit 
brow. 

Will that letter ever be done? 

Having reached a point of desperation. Bob 
finally seats himself again, and plunges into 
the business that demands attention. 

Page after page is written — Bob is like an en- 
gine that once started carries itself He has 
brought all his latent powers to bear upon the 
matter, for everything depends upon the result 
of this letter. 

It is done at last, just as a clock in the ho- 
tel strikes two. Bob reads it over with vari- 
ous chuckles, and nods as though pleased with 
his work, which is encouraging, at any rate. 

He makes a clean copy of it to send, keeping 
the original for reference. Then the document 
is made into as small a packet as possible, so 
that Campertown can the more readily deliver 
it to Nina in the Arab grave^^ard. 

It is three o^clock in the morning when all 
this has been accomplished. Bob takes a last 
look from the window, douses the glim, and, 
partly undressing, casts himself on his couch, 


162 


Monsieur Bob. 


where he tosses restlessly, as though pursued 
by phantoms, or engaged in desperate duels 
with swarthy rivals. Through all his dreams 
dances the alluring countenance of Ma’m^selle 
Nina ; so Bob turns and tosses, until with a 
groan he awakens, to find the daylight 
streaming in at his window. 


CHAPTER III. 


LAYING THE WIRES. 

The day has a cheerful opening. Can he 
look upon that as a harbinger of good luck ? 
He dashes cold water into his face to chase away 
the lingering cohorts of the sleep king’s forces, 
and feels ready for the campaign. It is to be a 
day and night fraught with great importance 
in the life of Monsieur Bob, and he realizes that 
he has much at stake. If ever his better quali- 
ties as soldier and statesman were needed, that 
time is right now, when Algiers seems to 
swarm with his foes. 

He has the day before him. The women will 
not go to the grave-yard in numbers until be- 
tween ten and eleven. Generally, the Algerian 
women carry dinner with them, and make 
what we would call a picnic of the affair. 

Bob takes his breakfast alone. 

Then he starts for the quay, intending to go 
on board the yacht, so as to make all necessa- 
ry arrangements in this quarter. The knowl- 
edge of Paxton’s duplicity causes him re- 
gret in one way, and then again he rejoices in 

163 


164 


Monsieur Bob. 


it. Forewarned is forearmed. If this treach- 
ery has to come upon him, what agreat thing 
it is that Campertown discovered the truth. 
His heart is very warm toward the queer lit- 
tle Briton ; his worth could never be estimat- 
ed from his appearance, for few people would 
want to go higher than a dollar on Camp, un- 
less they particularly desired him for a muse- 
um freak, where he would be worth a good 
deal. 

Thus Monsieur Bob reaches the quay, and 
the harbor is spread out before him. Although 
the hour is still somewhat early, there is much 
activity to be seen upon the dancing blue 
water. 

A steamer flying the Freneh flag is coming 
into port; several brigs are hoisting canvas as 
though this is their day of sailing — here a two- 
masted lugger, just beyond a felucca^ and num- 
erous settees, xebecs and baggalas, with 
their peculiar lateen sails, all boats only to be 
seen on and near the Mediterranean, are glid- 
ing to and fro. 

Monsieur Bob thinks it a handsome picture 
as he walks out upon the quay. From a cer- 
tain point he has arranged to signal those on 
board the yaeht, and reaching this place he 
draws out a red silk handkerchief. 

This he holds aloft so that the fresh morning 
breeze can catch it. Then he waits. In less 


Monsieur Bob. 


165 


than five minutes an answering signal is seen 
from the yacht, and presently a cedar boat 
puts out, manned by a couple of sturdy En- 
glish tars, heading for the quay. 

Bob watches the little craft dancing over the 
waves like a thing of life, with a silk United 
States flag in the stern, and somehow his 
bosom heaves with gratitude to think that he 
belongs to the land of the free, symbolized by 
that starry banner. The cross of St. George 
and the French tri-color seem to be on every- 
thing of value that floats in the harbor of Al- 
giers, but for all that Bob feels that the day is 
bound to come again when the ensign of Uncle 
Sam will sweep the seas; this sleep can not 
last much longer with such restless activity 
within ; it is like the gathering of forces inside 
old Vesuvius, that in their own appointed time 
must burst the barriers and send forth an irre- 
sistible flood to conquer all before it. 

The varnished cedar boat, with its burnished 
brass fittings gleaming in the sun^s rays, and 
its silken flag fluttering in the morning breeze, 
draws up at the landing place, and in another 
moment Monsieur Bob is aboard and bound 
toward his yacht. 

Captain Paxton greets him upon arrival, and 
Bob’s keen e3"es note a gleam of apprehension 
in the eyes of the other, as though he fears lest 
something may have turned up to alter the 


166 


Monsieur Bob. 


plans of the owner, and hence interfere with 
his own personal arrangements. 

Bob has no desire to arouse suspicions in the 
mind of the captain, however, and proceeds to 
pull the wool over the fellow’s eyes in the most 
approved Yankee style. 

He even causes Paxton’s face to glow with 
honest pride when he praises his management 
of the boat. Then he speaks of other matters. 

am concerned in a little affair here that I 
expect will culminate to-night. You will have 
a boat at the same spot alongside the quay 
immediately after dark. Any one who comes 
and gives my name is to be taken aboard. 
You understand. Captain?” 

‘‘Ay, ay, sir,” he replies, although at the 
same time something of a frown can be de- 
tected upon the honest countenance of the 
sailor. 

“Do not fail me. I shall not come aboard 
until these friends liaA^e arrived — perhaps some 
hours later. Therefore be sure to sendtheboat 
back again to the landing, to wait for me if it 
takes all night ; you hear ? ” 

“Ay, ay, sir.” 

“Another thing. Captain; there is a possi- 
bility that I may be pursued, for, to tell you 
the truth, I am about to elope with a young 
lady.” 

At this Paxton shows new interest and con- 


Monsieur Bob. 


167 


cem, as he wonders what effect it may have 
upon the diabolical plans of Achmed, the devil 
to whom he has sold himself body and soul. 
Then he grins, as though dreadfully tickled. 

That’s a sailor all over, sir. They generally 
run away with their sweethearts,” he says. 

/‘I tell you of this for a double reason; have 
my cabin cleaned up and made ready for occu- 
pancy by two ladies.” 

‘‘Two, your honor! Ain’t that the Turk’s 
and Mormon’s way?-” gasps Paxton. 

“Nonsense, man, only one of them is my 
sweetheart; the other a friend to keep her com- 
pany. You understand ; clean up the whole 
three of the small cabins ; have things in apple- 
pie order.” 

“You can depend upon it, sir.” 

“I spoke of two matters. The other is this :> 
we may possibly be pursued ; hence, send two 
of the sturdiest British sailors on board with 
the boat, and let them be armed to the teeth.” 

Captain Paxton nods his head. 

“I understand; it shall be as your honor 
says.” 

“And, Captain, as soon as darkness falls get 
all sail on, and be ready to trip your anchor 
with little warning. We shall want to leave 
the harbor of Algiers in a hurry.” 

“ Good, sir. Depend upon me.” 

Monsieur Bob lounges about the vessel for 


168 


Monsieur Bob. 


a time, looking into this and that. Paxton 
shows a disposition to follow him, but Bob 
sends him about his business by giving him an 
order that will take him to the cabin and keep 
him there until he also comes to examine some 
charts. 

Bob has already seen that the sailor known 
by the name of John Burrows is on deck, en- 
gaged in rubbing up the little brass breech- 
loading cannon, which every well-regulated 
pleasure yacht carries as a means of saluting. 
He saunters over that way, and, while pretend- 
ing to be interested in the armament of the 
dandy Skip-jack, enters into conversation with 
the honest British tar. 

Burrows looks into his face a little anxiously 
and eagerly as he draws near, and with a 
glance discovers that the coast is clear. - 

“It’s all right, John — I received your mes- 
sage and understand the whole business,” Bob 
says in a low but cheery voice. 

“Thank God for that, sir! ” 

“I want to have a few words with you in 
private while I pretend to examine the gun. I 
don’t mean to do anything about this business 
until we’ve cut loose from the land and are out 
on blue water. During the day privately ac- 
quaint your companions with the true state of 
affairs. Are all to be trusted ? ” 


Monsieur Bob. 


169 


There are ten men as true as gold, sir,^’ re- 
plied Burrows, sincerely. 

^^Good. They will have no cause to regret 
standing by Bob Crane. Pledge every one to 
secrecy, and bid them keep their weather eye 
open for squalls. A few friends of mine will 
come on board after dark, and when we are a l 
here our force will be increased by two fighting 
men. The rest leave to me.” 

Burrows seems delighted to find that the 
owner of the yacht has grasped the reins of 
the difficulty so completely. He feels confident 
that they can master the mutiny. 

Bob finally saunters on, having a smile or a 
word for every one. Th^n passing into the 
cabin he looks over the charts with the cap- 
tain and marks out the course. 

Consulting his Vv^atch he believes it is now 
time for him to be ashore. He confesses to a 
curiosity to see what kind of a female the little 
English snob can make of himself Bob reallj^ 
has a pang at the thought of those delicate 
side whiskers; the man who could sacrifice 
what he thinks so much of is a friend indeed! 

So he is rowed ashore again by the same 
men who came for him. 

Algiers by this time is full of bustle ; consid- 
erable business is transacted here each day, 
and the bustling quarter where merchants 
meet looks an3^thing but like what it did 


170 


Monsieur Bob. 


years ago, when slave marts adorned the 
square, and gangs of white slaves were led to 
and from their work. 

Bob makes directly for his hotel, never fear- 
ing but what those he expects will be there or 
soon arrive. 

On the street Monsieur Bob notices a strange 
figure; a dervish is not seen so often in Al- 
giers that he does not attract attention, while 
in Turkey or Egypt they are so plenty that of 
late, Osman Pasha’s army has been composed 
mostly of these religious fanatics, battling 
against the native Egyptians. 

Accustomed to the sight. Bob gives the fel- 
low only a cursory glance. He does not know 
that the dervish looks after him with the dark- 
est hatred in his eyes, and even follows to the 
hotel. 

Perhaps Monsieur Bob might have been 
more interested in the pilgrim could he have 
penetrated the other’s deep disguise, for under 
that exterior lies the dark face of the desert 
terror, no other than Musta-el-Gaber himself. 

This worthy perhaps fears lest the news of 
his presence in Algiers may have been conveyed 
to the French authorities, who will be on the 
lookout for him — hence this disguise. 

Not suspecting any such surveillance, the 
American enters the hotel, which is kept in 
much the same style as most French caravan- 


Monsieur Bob. 


171 


saries. At the desk he asks for his key, and 
before he can frame a question, the clerk in- 
forms him that a lady and gentleman desire to 
see him — they are in the little parlor on the 
left. 

Bob advances and enters. He receives quite 
a shock, for it is difficult to believe that this 
modest looking little lady can be the Specimen. 
Cam pert own waltzes up to him and makes a 
tremendous curtsy; then strikes an attitude 
and gazes on him like a love-sick school girl, 
devouring a hero actor whom she worships. 

Bob bursts out into a roar, the spectacle is 
so positively ridiculous, and even the captain 
chuckles in a strange bubbling way. 

‘ ‘ Really, 1 Ve laughed until I’m played out, at 
the antics of this man. My sides ache, and I 
feel generally bruised up. Come, Camp, let up 
on that, or we’ll have the people of the house 
rushing in to see what’s the matter. Great 
Scott! That angelic expression! Man alive, 
look natural, or you’ 11 be the death of meJ” 
and Shackelford goes off into a fresh fit of ex- 
plosive gurglings and small shrieks. 

The Honorable finally sobers down, and 
drops a veil over his smooth face, just in time, 
for a knock is heard and a clerk puts his head 
in. 

“Did you ring ? ” he asks in French. 

Bob is equal to the occasion, and orders a 


172 


Monsieur Bob. 


couple of bottles of champagne sent to his 
rooms, where he will entertain his friends. So 
they proceed upward, and it is not long before 
the trio find themselves in Bob ^s private parlor. 

A delightful breeze, coming off the sea, wafts 
the spicy odors of the Orient to the three 
friends, who seem never to tire of the beautiful 
view spread before them from the windows. 

It is business that calls them here, however, 
and as soon as the waiter has left them Bob 
drinks to the success of their little game, after 
which he produces the wonderful letter. 

“Gentlemen, if you see anything in here that 
strikes you as soft, remember the peculiar cir- 
cumstances of the case,^’ he says. 

“We will,” the others respond. 

“I will later on stand ready to forgive you 
should the circumstances conspire to place 
either or both in the same boat.” 

“Heaven forbid,” groans Shackelford. 

The Specimen smiles and nods, placing one 
hand over his already lacerated heart. 

“Thanks, Bob, dear boy. I assure you such 
kindness is appreciated, and the opportunit3’ 
may arise sooner than you think.” 

“ Come, come, gentlemen, the letter, let’s have 
the letter. Tempus fugit,'" exclaims Shack. 

Thereupon Monsieur Bob draws out the 
original and proceeds to read it. He walks up 


Monsieur Bob. 


173 


and down, emphasizing each sentence toward 
which he desires to invite especial attention. 

It is a singular scene — the veteran leaning 
back on a divan with a cigar between his teeth, 
the disguised Honorable Felix offering up in- 
cense to the gods, or, in other words, finishing 
his last cigarette ere starting in upon the game, 
while the young Chicago giant walks up and 
down, now stopping to bend over them and 
slowly read a very important line that brings 
out nods and grunts of approval, anon wetting 
his throat with a dash of the sparkling grape 
juice. 

At last he is done. 

Shackelford gives a sigh; Felix, more express- 
ive, jumps up and slaps Bob on the back, 
though he has to stretch a point to do so. 

“Wonderfully bright, dear boy; a perfect 
gem. By Jove! I doubt whether I could excel 
it myself, and you know I’m a holy terror with 
a pen. When she reads that my lady is a 
goner. She’ll consent to elope with you, dead 
sure.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” asks Bob, eagerly. 

“I’m positive, ridiculously positive, dear 
boy. No girl could withstand such impas- 
sioned ardor as expressed in those sentences. 
They breathe a language of fire. Depend on 
jour success. By the way, Bob, you have a 
copy of this letter? ” 


174 


Monsieur Bob. 


Yes — why dVe ask? 

Well — ah — you see — who knows but what 
I might at some future time be in the same fix, 
and, ridiculous as it may seem, perhaps my 
thoughts might desert me ; you know at such 
times the brightest minds suffer the worst; 
and it would be deuced nice to have a copy of 
this letter on hand for inspiration.’^ 

Bless me, Campertown, this is flattery in- 
deed ! Depend upon it I shall always keep a 
copy, and if the time ever comes when you need 
it, old man, all you have to do is to ask.” 

“Bob, you’re a trump.” 

“Well, I hope I’ll win the game then, but I 
tell 3"OU those fellows hold a pretty full hand.” 

“ Nevertheless we’re going to down ’em, 
make your mind easy on that,” declares Shack- 
elford, with a grim look that means much 
when seen upon the face of such an old war 
dog. 

Then they fall to discussing the letter and 
the best means they can employ to carry out 
their design. It is agreed that Bob has done 
well, and Shackelford praises that part of the 
letter where he makes arrangement for Nina 
to communicate with them by tying her mis- 
sive to a stone, and tossing it over a certain 
corner of the wall at an exact hour. 

Suggestions are made, but they come back 
to his way, and agree that what he has writ- 


Monsieur Bob. 


175 


ten can hardly be bettered. Then Shackelford, 
who knows about everything that pertains to 
the habits and customs of the Orientals, coach- 
es the Specimen on his approaching work, tell- 
ing him how to reach the Arab grave-yard, 
and how to behave when once inside. 

The Arabs and Moors delight to bury their 
dead on the side of a hill ; it is a habit that has 
descended to them through the ages, and is al- 
most universal among Eastern nations. These 
cemeteries are not very well cared for, but are 
always surrounded by a wall, and it is usual 
on the Mohammedan Sunday, our Friday, for 
the women to assemble here to wander about, 
eat lunch and have a good time generally. 
At such a time they go unveiled, as no man is 
allowed to enter the grave-yard on penalty of 
the bastinado^ perhaps even worse. 

Shackelford has lived among the Arabs in 
their tents ; he has spent months in the houses 
of the Moors, and there is little connected with 
their ways of life that this man does not know. 

Hence, he puts the little Briton up to many 
things that will undoubtedly help him carry 
out the plan upon which he is engaged, and 
Campertown promises faithfully to behave 
himself while at work; indeed, he has no de- 
sire to fall into the hands of an infuriated mob 
of Arabs, male and female. 

He shows a revolver which he carries, secret- 


176 


Monsieur Bob. 


ed on his person, for an emergencj", for he does 
not wish to be caught napping. 

Then the copy of Bob’s letter is hidden away, 
being pinned to his dress, so that there will be 
no chance of losing it. Thus prepared, the 
brave little Briton gravely shakes hands with 
each of his comrades, giving Bob the tip of his 
fingers only, and then leaves the hotel, bent 
upon carrying out his daring scheme. 


CHAPTER lY. 


CAMPERTOWN IN THE GRAVE- YARD ON 
BOTOAREAH. 

The name of Sahel is applied to all the high 
ground surrounding Algiers, including the 
Arab villages of Burkadeen, Bermaudreis, and 
El-biar, and the country to the high hill Bou- 
zareah, which has a small settlement and an 
old grave-yard on top. Here many people go 
for the grand view spread out all around. The 
Valleedes Consuls lies below, wherein the olden 
times, before the fierce Algerians came under 
the yoke of the French, the foreign consuls used 
to dwell, occasionally summoned into the 
presence of the despotic Dey, who ruled his 
blood-thirsty piratical people with a rod of 
iron. 

Now all is changed; tram cars can be seen 
en route for Mustapha, while omnibuses and 
cabs run to the native villages. 

These latter generally carr3^ those who seek 
the view from the high hill. On the Mohamme- 
dan Sabbath many veiled women take the trip. 

X2 177 


178 


Monsieur Bob. 


They can be seen singly or in squads passing 
up the road leading to the top. 

This is one of the few pleasures given to the 
women of these countries, and accounts for the 
zest with which they enter into it. 

It is a little before noon when a lone figure 
climbs the hill. Though small in stature there 
is something masculine or English in the way 
in which this single female mounts upward. 

The natives she meets look at her, but vent- 
ure nothing further than a grave salutation 
at most, which the female returns with a ma- 
jestic wave of her small hand, sunburned, as is 
usual with nearly all travelers. 

She finally reaches the gate of the cemetery, 
and here comes to a pause to survey the scene 
and recover breath. Of course this seeming 
female is no other than our friend, the Honor- 
able Felix, bent upon carrying out his prom- 
ise to Bob, and delivering the latter^s weighty 
letter into the hand of the girl who has stolen 
his heart. 

The spectacle is grand indeed, and well worth 
the trouble of climbing Bouzareah. Felix has 
enough artistic spirit to appreciate this thing, 
and for a few moments he even forgets his pe- 
culiar mission in admiration of the panorama 
spread out before his admiring eyes. 

Nothing could be clearer than the atmos- 
phere of to-day, and every object for miles 


Monsieur Bob. 


179 


around stands out boldly and distinctly, while 
a few white, fleecy clouds pass over the azure 
heavens, serving to lend new beauty to the 
scene by contrast. 

Campertown has learned that the gate-keeper 
expects a tip from any foreign lady entering 
the graveyard on this day, and hence he places 
some coins in the itching palm of the old fellow, 
who makes an humble salaam, and proeeeds 
to open the door in the wall. 

The Honorable passes through, and finds 
himself in a position which probably no Euro- 
pean has ever before experienced, and which 
may cause him much trouble in case his secret 
is discovered. 

Scores of women wander about. Some are 
here for idle curiosity, others to decorate 
graves of departed relatives, while still more 
come and bring their lunch, just for an oppor- 
tunity to be free from the grim confines of their 
dark homes. 

All are unveiled. Like other foreigners Felix 
has many times wished he could see the face 
back of a tantalizing veil. Now he is given a 
chance to gaze upon scores. 

He finds that the Arab and Moorish women 
do not differ from English girls. Some are ex- 
ceedingly homely, others passingly fair, and a 
few gifted with ravishing Oriental beauty. 

One thing is good— Felix does not forget 


180 


Monsieur Bob. 


himself, and stare at these beauties in a way to 
alarm them. He takes his looks on the sly. 
Once in a while he can not help but wink when 
he catches the eye of a lovely charmer fastened 
upon him, the spirit of flirting has such a 
strong hold upon this misguided youth — so 
that ere long a number of the Moorish ladies 
come to regard him as a very peculiar foreign 
woman, and avoid him. 

Felix wanders about the graveyard, now 
and then bending down to mark the quaint in- 
scription on a crumbling stone; anon looking 
into the open tomb of a holy marabout, where 
some ragged but very sacred garments hang, 
wliich were worn by the saint when alive. All 
the while he keeps a good lookout for the ones 
whom he seeks in this place. 

Has Nina come ? 

Something may have occurred to make a 
change in her programme. Felix fears this 
when he has circumnavigated the graveyard 
and as yet failed to discover the party into 
whose hands the note is to be delivered. 

Just when a feeling of despair is about to 
seize hold upon him, he receives a shock. A 
laugh floats to his ears. Surely he would know 
that among a thousand. 

Nanette ! 

He turns toward the quarter from whence it 
pomes, a corner he has somehow missed. There 


Monsieur Bob. 


181 


they are, sure enough — Nina, Nanette and 
Marhara. Felix stands spell-bound. It is 
quite evident that they are making merry at 
his expense. He pretends to be quite wrathy, 
and shakes his head in a threatening way, 
while muttering to himself. Nina, though her- 
self amused, succeeds in quieting her compan- 
ions, and Felix, knowing his case is hopeless 
so long as Marhara is near, roams off. 

He does not go very far, as it is his desire to 
watch operations and take the first chance to 
deliver his note. Will Nina make an opportu- 
nity for him ? She knows that Monsieur Bob 
will in all probability communicate with her 
under these peculiar circumstances, and it lies 
pretty much with her whether anything is ac- 
complished. 

For quite awhile Felix is baffled. He grows 
as restless as a caged bear. Seeing the three 
girls sit down to eat, or rather Marhara to 
wait upon the others, he groans in despair. 
Then a bright idea flashes into that wonder- 
fully fertile brain-box. The more he reflects 
upon the subject the stronger it appeals to, not 
his reason, but his desire. Utterly routed, at 
length Felix retires to a part of the graveyard 
that seems to have no charms for the gathered 
females, as it is a lonely spot, where the view 
is cut off by thickets of cactus and aloe. 

Finding himself unobserved, the Specimen 


182 


Monsieur Bob. 


kneels, produces a little poncli of tobacco, and 
with trembling eagerness rolls a. cigarette. 
This he clutches between his teeth; another 
cautious look around and a match is applied. 
Oh! joy unspeakable! the Honorable Felix is 
once more himself. 

He puffs eagerly and quickly, not knowing 
how soon his smoke on the sly may be inter- 
rupted. The cigarette is soon gone, and, feel- 
ing like a new man, Campertown walks away. 

A minute later he discovers an old Moorish 
woman advancing with her nose elevated at 
an angle of forty-five degrees. Her whole ap- 
pearance indicates suspicion. She has scented 
the tobacco smoke, and necessarily believes 
there must be fire and a man near by. 

“Bless her dear heart, she is actually afraid 
some man will look upon her beauty, poor old 
thing. If they had old maids over here I’d be- 
lieve she was one. Ah! she looks this way. 
Shall I wink my left optic? Dangerous; be- 
ware, Felix, dear boy. That old woman would 
suspect and — Jupiter, they’d tear my eyes 
out!” 

He concludes to beat a retreat, which is 
finalh^ effected in quite a graceful manner. By 
the time he gets back to the quarter where his 
interest lies he finds that the little lunch is over. 
Nina reclines in an easy position reading a 
novel, Marhara goes through some form of 


Monsieur Bob. 


183 


religious devotion at a neighboring saint’s 
tomb only a few yards away, where her eyes 
can be upon the form of her young mistress, 
while the vivacious Nanette wanders here and 
there engaged in picking flowers. 

Upon this last figure the eyes of Felix rest 
most devotedly. Here is his chance. Unable 
to hand the letter directly to Nina, he can send 
it to her by the faithful Nanette. Besides such 
an arrangement allows him an interview with 
the charming maid, which is certainly a desid- 
eratum with the Honorable Felix. 

He stealthily follows the girl until he can 
fulh^ make up his mind just where she is head- 
ing, when he goes and hides in the grass among 
the thickest of the flowers. 

Closer she comes — in another minute her 
pretty hands will part the grass and she 
must discover him crouching there. He grins 
at the surprise in store for Nanette, the pretty 
French maid, whose presence already causes 
him a decided attack of heart disease. 

The decisive moment arrives at last, and her 
black eyes look upon him in wonder. Felix 
blows her a kiss ; she draws back in alarm. 

Parbleau ! What an ugly creature! She 
must be crazy, and blowing me kisses, too. 
I’ve a great mind to scratch her for it, if it 
wasn’t that I’d soil my lovely lavender dress. 


184 


Monsieur Bob. 


At any rate I’ll make a face at her, just to 
show I’m not afraid,” she says aloud. 

Nanette!” 

Mon Dieu ! Who speaks m^^ name ? ” with 
an alarmed look on her face, as she stands 
there ready to fly or advance. 

“It’s me, darling.” 

“Yes, I see it’s you, but I’m not your dar- 
ling. I never saw you before; I believe 
you’re — ” 

“It’s your own Felix,” he murmurs. 

A little scream tells of her amazement. 

“Hush! Do nothing rash; they’d kill me, 
my dear girl, if they found me here,” he says, 
and this quiets her again, for the girl really 
thinks a good deal of the Specimen. 

“Oh! Monsieur Camp, what do you here? 
Why have you come?” she asks, holding up 
her hands. 

“Just sit down a minute and I’ll explain the 
whole business, Nanette; can ’t do it standing, 
you know. Come closer, my dear. Now, 
what brings me here — I risk my life to see you. ” 

“ Oh ! Monsieur Felix ! ” 

“Uniting business with pleasure, I have 
brought a note for Ma’m’selle Nina.” 

“Perfidious monster — ” trying to leave his 
side, but somehow Felix has an arm entangled 
about her waist, which her seemingly desper- 
ate efforts fail to remove. 


Monsieur Bob. 


185 


“Hold on, dearest. You must hear all. This 
letter is from my good friend, Monsieur Bob.^’ 
Her lover? 

“Yes, which puts a different face on it, eh? 
It is a matter of life and death that this letter 
fall into Nina’s hands without the knowledge 
of Marhara, or Debora as you know her, who 
is ma’m’selle’s most desperate foe.” 

“She does not know that,” quickly. 

“ Does she trust the girl ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you must warn her. That girl went 
crazy because Monsieur Bob could not love 
her. She is the missing daughter of Achmed, 
the sorcerer, who means to be the death of my 
friend.” 

Nanette knows something already, and is 
quick to guess the rest ; her look tells Felix 
that he is already understood. 

“Give me the letter; I will promise that it 
is in ma’m’selle’s hand before half an hour. Is 
there anything to tell her ? ” 

“The letter explains all. If she obeys love’s 
call this night she leaves Algiers.” 

“What! So soon? How can she go ? ” 

“Monsieur Bob has a noble yaeht anchored 
in the harbor — once mj boat; a few friends go 
with him. Ah, my dear Nanette, you and I 
may see happy moonlight evenings cruising 
about over this lovely sea.” 


186 


Monsieur Bob* 


‘‘How now, foolish man, can this be if yon 
are sailing away and I am left behind ? 

“By Jove! You are to go with ma^m’selle. 
I would hear of nothing else, you know. ’Pon 
honor, now, that would be a nice go ! Make 
your mind up, and eneourage the ^^oung lady 
to accept.’’ 

Thus they talk on, sometimes billing and 
cooing, anon having a little spat, for the maid 
is rather quick-tempered, until at length is 
heard : 

“Nanette! Nanette!” 

“I must go; it is the nia’m’selle, ” cries the 
girl. 

“You have the letter secure ? ” 

“ Grasped in these flowers, which I shall give 
the mistress when sharp eyes are not looking.” 

“Good! Now, Nanette, see what I have 
risked for you.” 

“Only one, then, Monsieur. Oh! you mon- 
ster, 3^ou have been sitting on my dress — it is 
ruined ! ” 

“Nonsense ; get you forty like it the day we 
are united. Bend this way, darling.” 

As he snatches several kisses, she bursts away 
and runs off in the direction where Nina and 
the Arab girl are to be found, while Felix 
chuckles over his suecess at bold highway 
robbery. 

Hardly has Nanette disappeared beyond the 


Monsieur Bob. 


187 


shrubbery than Felix hears a noise behind, 
and turning beholds that same old crone who 
glared at him just after his delicious smoke. 

‘*Too late again, old girl,” he thinks, when 
she rushes forward and faces him, jabbering 
away in the strange tongue which Felix has 
no more knowledge of than Sanscrit. 

It is plainly evident that she has from a dis- 
tance witnessed the billing and cooing, and al- 
though women may sometimes do these things 
among themselves, there has doubtless been a 
distinction with a difference in the way Felix 
went about it, that has aroused her suspicions. 

This, coupled with the cigar smoke, has 
made the old woman, who acts as a sort of 
chaperone over those assembled in the ceme- 
tery, believe there is something wrong in this 
quarter. 

The Specimen understands that he must 
walk Spanish if he hopes to disarm her, so he 
puts on all the frills he knows how, pouts like 
a school-girl, and walks away with a mincing 
step that would have broken Bob’s heart and 
sent Shackelford into a paroxysm could those 
worthies have witnessed it. 

The woman glares after him, shaking her 
head as though mystified, while Felix raises 
his parasol, and continues his promenade. 

Presently he passes within sight of those in 
whom he has such a deep interest. Marhara 


188 


Monsieur Bob. 


is engaged with some service, and Nanette flut- 
ters near her mistress, who is occupied in read- 
ing Monsieur Bob^s billet doux. 

The expressions on her face can even be seen 
by the disguised Briton, and he notices a light 
there that gives him joy. 

“ Make you Te mind up, dear boy, she ’ll go. 
That letter does the business. Nanette must 
accompany her; well be awfully happy; un- 
less — confound that old woman, she ’s watch_ 
ing me again! Well, here goes,” and with a 
sly kiss thrown in the direction of the French 
maid, who chances to be looking, he wanders 
off. 

Campertown has accomplished his mission 
and knows he ought to be off. It would be 
good policy on his part to be going, since it 
must increase his danger, every minute he re- 
mains in the Arab cemetery. 

He chances to be constructed like a good 
many men, however, and has not the heart to 
go away while Nanette is around. That same 
feeling has been fatal to many a brave man, 
just as the candle is to the poor moths that 
continually flutter around it, one dropping 
now and then. 

When Nina has read her long letter through 
she evinces a desire to return home, for it must 
be answered at a certain hour, and such an 


Monsieur Bob. 


189 


eflfect it has had upon her that she has become 
very eager to make the reply. 

Felix sees them depart. 

After that he does not care to remain longer, 
and would also leave the cemetery behind, but 
as fortune has it there are others now deter- 
mined to have a hand in the game. 

He finds his progress blocked by half a dozen 
women ; the strange fact about it is that all 
of them are old and ugly ; the young women 
look on from a distance, but apparently have 
little interest in the matter. Felix begins to 
realize that it is the old crones who side with 
the men in eastern countries, and keep up the 
law that causes every woman to veil herself in 
public. Those who are beautiful have little 
sympathy for that law, though bound to ob- 
serve it. 

These six crones obstruct his path, so that 
he cannot reach the door in the wall. They 
have a look of business in their eyes. Felix can 
see this, and he feels that the critical moment 
has at last arrived. 

Just what they say he cannot tell, but their 
actions demonstrate their feelings. He does 
not forget to play his part, but because he 
represents an American woman, seeing the 
sights of Algiers on her own hook, that is no 
reason he must appear a coward. 

On the contrary, he strikes an attitude, with 


190 


Monsieur Bob. 


the closed parasol supporting him, and listens 
to the jabber of the indignant band. Then, 
when he gets a chance, the Honorable Felix 
answers back — his sharp soprano voice outs 
the air like a file, and he accompanies his words 
with the gestures of an Anna Dickinson. 

The scene is impressive; it rapidly grows 
serious, and would have reminded a theatre 
goer of the animated spectacles so often pre- 
sented in the comic operas of to-day. 

Each side grows more in earnest. 

The women advance and elevate their bony 
fingers as though it is their intention to tear 
the disguise from his face. Felix has his blood 
up, and does not mean to submit. He is phy- 
sically unable to contend against these crones, 
who will doubtless scratch his eyes out if they 
discover the truth. 

Campertown knows full well the danger to 
which he is exposed, and does not lose his pres- 
ence of mind. He has a faculty for preserving 
that even in most trying circumstances. 

The women still advance, but not afoot does 
the little hero 3deld ; his stout parasol is now 
held in front of him as a weapon of defence, for 
he notices that his assailants have picked up 
cudgels in the shape of sticks. The clatter of 
tongues increases until it is perfectly terrible ; 
he can look into the angry eyes of the six 
crones, and the supreme moment has come. 


Monsieur Bob. 


191 


Suddenly there is a succession of shrieks; a 
panic has broken out among the native wo- 
men, and with a great fluttering of skirts they 
rush pell mell in all directions ; some fall and 
scramble over old grave stones, while in about 
one moment the disguised Felix has the field 
to himself. 

He smiles and chuckles as he replaces in his 
bosom the little revolver that has been the 
cause of all this consternation, and then makes 
a bee-line for the door in the wall, which he 
soon reaches, passes through, and descends the 
hill of Bouzareah, to meet some vehicle below 
that will carry him, triumphant, back into Al- 
giers. 


CHAPTER Y. 


OYER THE GARDEN WALL. 

At two o’clock on the afternoon of this same 
day Monsieur Bob walks up and down the 
Place du Gouvernement with a quiek, nervous 
stride. 

Standing in the door of the hotel can be seen 
the tall figure of Captain Shaekelford, smoking 
as usual, watehing the passers-by, and enjo3'- 
ing the strange seene as only an old traveler 
may. This is life to him ; he could never exist 
shut up in some baek English or Americ^in 
town, where the event of the day would be the 
arrival of the one train. 

Plainly Bob is growing nervous because the 
man he looks for fails to turn up. He imagines 
all manner of evils as having overtaken Felix, 
and blames himself for not having gone to the 
graveyard with the little man. He could have 
remained outside, and if trouble came, have 
rushed to Campertown’s assistance. 

This anxiety prevents Bob from keeping cool, 
as his friend Shackelford has done. When he 

193 


Monsieur Bob. 


193 


passes the other for the tenth time he hears 
him say : 

Look toward the Kasbah ; lo, the conquer- 
ing hero comes ! 

Bob’s eyes flash in that direction, and what 
he sees causes him to utter an ejaculation of 
intense delight. Sauntering along as big as 
life comes the great Campertown, loud plaid 
suit, tourist hat of the same material, huge 
cane, patent leathers, and spy-glass cocked in 
his right optic. Ridiculous as this figure ap- 
pears, there is one man on the plaza just ready 
to take Camp in his arms and squeeze him, 
such is his delight at setting eyes on the Briton. 

Needless to remark, this infatuated individ- 
ual is Monsieur Bob. He can be excused on 
the plea that he is in love, not with Camper- 
town it is true, but in his eyes the Specimen is 
an angelic messenger — a heavenly go-between. 

Felix has lost a portion of his glory— there 
is a something changed about him, his friends 
notice, but it probably only dawns on them 
after hours have passed that he has gathered 
in his diminutive crop of side whiskers. 

Bob hastens toward his victim, but Felix 
bluntly refuses to shake hands. There is a look 
of reproach in his eyes as he holds back. 

By Jove! you squeezed me last time, dear 
boy. I have foresworn shaking with every 
one. Always prided myself on my neat hand ; 

13 


194 


Monsieur Bob. 


deuced shame to have a bone broken. Practice 
on the end of my cane if you must, Bob, my 
dear fellow, and he thrusts out the cane, which 
has actually something like a human hand 
carved at the end of it; but the man from Chi- 
cago waves it aside. 

'‘Nevermind, Felix; it’s all right; no harm 
done. Tell me, did you see Nina?” he asks. 

“To tell the truth I did. 

“And handed her the letter? ” 

“No.” 

“Confusion! What does this mean?” de- 
mands Bob, aghast at the reply. 

“Well, you see, that Marhara hung to her; 
never took her eyes off the ma’m’selle. I saw 
it was no go trying to hand the letter to her ; 
had what I thought was a bright idea ; way- 
laid Nanette, gave her the letter ; she hid it 
among the flowers she was picking for her 
charming lady.” 

“All very fine, milord, but how in the deuce 
do you know whether Nina received it? ” 

Felix chuckles. 

“Ridiculously clever in me, you see, but my 
eyes told me so. To be brief, I watched the 
lovely ma’m’selle read the letter.” 

“Come, old fellow, you’d better confine those 
adjectives to Nanette. She might not like 
to hear you use them in connection with an- 
other. W omen are queerly constructed , Felis;, ’ * 


Monsieur Bob. 


195 


‘‘A thousand thanks, dear boy. Shall re- 
member. Nanette is the one bright particular 
star in my eyes, you know — ” babbles the oth- 
er, when Bob, who thinks of but one thing, 
interrupts him. 

^‘Tell me the whole story, there ^s a good 
man.^’ 

Nothing pleases Felix better, and as they 
join the soldier, the three sit down upon the 
piazza of the hotel, where they can talk com- 
fortably, and at the same time observe the 
people passing. 

Campertown does nobly, and with sundry 
jerks and starts spins the whole yarn, much 
to the edification of his hearers. At its con- 
clusion, before he will answer any questions, 
he must needs roll a cigarette and indulge. 

Then they talk the matter over, and en- 
deavor to see where it can be helped, coming 
to the conclusion ere long that nothing can 
really be done until they hear from Nina. 

This makes Shackelford ask : 

‘‘When did you appoint a time for being on 
hand to receive an answer over the garden 
wall?"^ 

Bob draws out the original draft of his let- 
ter, and places a finger on a certain spot. 
“You see, these words — ‘at the southwest 
corner of the garden, between three and four 


196 


Monsieur Bob. 


o’clock. Tie the letter to a piece of stone and 
cast it over the wall. ^ 

Shackelford nods his head. 

‘‘Plain English, eh, Felix?” 

“Ridiculously so, dear boy.” 

“And, Bob, seeing that it now lacks only ^ 
half an hour of three P. M., if I were you I’d] 
be trotting in the direction of that same gar- , 
den wall. To be late might ruin everything.” j 

“What you say indicates a clear head, my 
dear Captain. I^m off. Where will I find you 
when I return ? ’ ’ 

“Somewhere around here. Camp and I may 
indulge in some flirtation on the sly while 
you he gone.” 

“ Hush ! says the little man, nervously look-; 
ing around as though he expects to see the 
black-eyed Nanette close by ; “I’m out of that’ 
business now, dear boy; engaged, yon know,” 
with a ghastly grin, and a roll of his eyes, 
which expression brings out a chuckle from the 
captain, to whom life would indeed be a dreary 
waste unless he could find something to laugh 
at, and the dapper little Briton seems to rath-j 
er enjoy creating merriment. i 

So Monsieur Bob hurries away, bent upon 
love’s errand. Fatigue is ever ignored when 
such a mission calls, and every pulse quickens^ 
at the thought of his fate being held in the 
balance. Will Nina consent? What if she re- 


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Monsieur Bos. 


197 


fuse? The world will seem dark indeed, then. 
No wonder Bob is excited, for what lover 
would not be who has put his all to the test 
and awaits the answer in trepidation and 
doubt. 

Mustapha Superieur lies before him, with its 
Moorish and modern houses, its terraces and 
walls, its clambering vines and profusion of 
flowers. 

He mounts the hill. 

Bob is no stranger here, and knows where 
the home of Ma’m^selle Nina is located. What 
lover does not hover around the dwelling place 
of his adored one, for where the treasure is 
there must the heart be also. 

Before him rises the grim wall that enclos- 
es the garden, where beautiful flowers bloom, 
and beauty herself walks in snowy attire. 

Years ago this same home, occupied by Os- 
man Digna and his niece, was owned by one 
of the most desperate as well as richest pirates 
of all Algiers ; from these same walls many a 
time keen eyes swept the blue sea for signs of 
unhappy vessels, which, when sighted, would 
be chased by Algerian craft, captured, and the 
crews reduced to abject slavery. 

Bob refers to his watch and finds it just 
lacking a few minutes of three. At any rate he 
is on time, and that pleases him. 

Close by is a ruined tower, which in the times 


198 


Monsieur Bob. 


gone by has served for signaling the pirate ves- 
sels in the harbor; perhaps at night served as 
a beacon to guide felucca and baggala into 
the haven, as they returned laden with spoils. 

Bob cares not a rap what its original use 
may have been ; he is only interested in what 
it can do for him just now. 

He climbs the remnant of the old tower, 
more than once loosening a stone that clatters 
down among the debris at the foot. When he 
reaches a small opening about the top, he 
stops. The situation pleases him ; on one side 
the panorama of harbor and sea is spread out, 
while, by turning his head, he can look through 
the little fissure into the garden, being elevat- 
ed above the wall. 

Thus Bob waits. 

Keenly he surveys the quaint old Moorish 
house beyond, with its small windows. It has 
a court in the center, no doubt, with fountain 
playing, though that same thing seems almost 
useless when such a rose garden belongs to the 
place. No doubt this court had its uses under 
the old regime. 

Not a soul can he see at first ; the garden is 
apparently deserted. Bob, with his heart act- 
ing in the queerest w^ay imaginable, proceeds 
to* spend the next hour, if need be, in feasting 
his eyes upon that pile which hides the lovely 
form of his adored one; there is nothing 


Monsieur Bob. 


1. 


strange about his actions, since lovers the 
wide world over have always made themselves 
ridiculous by such mute adoration. 

Thus time passes. 

Once or twice Bob imagines he sees a white 
robed figure flit by some casement, but, al- 
though each time it gives him a start, he is 
not able to satisfy himself that it is Nina. 

So he bides his time as patiently as any phi- 
losopher in love could expect to. 

At last his reward comes. 

Bob’s heart gives a sudden bound as he dis- 
covers a trim figure, clad in fleecy white, mov- 
ing about among the beds*, where roses bloom 
in riotous profusion. 

He cannot see her face, for a sun shade hides 
it — a delicate affair of silk and lace, that seems 
just in harmony with Nina; but Bob never 
once doubts the identity of the one who strolls 
hither and thither. 

He notes one fact with keen pleasure; she 
continues to draw nearer to the marked cor- 
ner, as though there is an object in her stroll. 

Now she has reached the place; not more 
than thirty feet separate him from the object 
of his devotion. Thirty feet ! What matters 
such a distance when love can annihilate miles 
of space! She bends down; ah! those dainty 
hands have picked up a rather large pebble, 


19 ^ 


200 MoNsmuR Bob. 

and around this they fasten the threads that 
already clasp a missive she discloses. 

All her movements indicate a desire to hide 
what she is doingfromthe eyes of any one who 
may be looking from the house. 

Imagine Bob’s sensations as he crouches 
there, up in the old tower, and watches the 
casting of the missive that carries his fate. He 
trembles as though with the ague, but not 
once does he remove his eyes from the figure in 
white. 

Now the stone has apparently been adjusted, 
for she bends forward. The hand that holds 
the missive is held out over the wall ; the fin- 
gers relax, and a fluttering white object goes 
down. 

Monsieur Bob coughs ; he cannot resist the 
inclination, to save his neck, and as the para- 
sol is moved aside, while a fair face looks di- 
rectly up at him, he throws a kiss. She gives 
a faint scream, while he on his part groans. 

''Confusion! It’s Nanette!” he mutters, 
for the pert French maid has given him one 
bright smile, and then walked away. 

"Never mind,” thinks Bob, "it’s all in the fam- 
ily, and there is little danger of a discreet girl like 
Nanette repeating tales; besides, wasn’t it all 
a mistake anyhow ? ” 

Ah! The letter— the precious letter; he is 


Monsieur Bob. 


201 


forgetting it all this while. So he begins to 
descend from his elevated position. 

It is sometimes one thing to ascend a ruin, 
and quite another to get down. Bob finds this 
to be a fact when he attempts the job, but, be- 
ing a natural gymnast, he succeeds in accom- 
plishing the feat, with one or two close shaves 
in the way of a slip, where only his quickness 
and muscular arms save him. 

At length he reaches the bottom. Stepping 
out of the ruined tower he looks about for the 
precious letter that holds his fate. 

To his amazement, what does he behold but 
a ragged dervish, bending over and picking up 
the missive! He holds it aloft, and seems to 
be surveying it with interest, as who would 
not to discover a letter and a stone tied to- 
gether ? 

Monsieur Bob takes five immense strides and 
his hand clutches the shoulder of the dervish, 
whom he whirls around. 

‘‘The letter — it is mine,’^ he manages to say 
in Arabic, depending more upon his gestures in 
pointing than on his correct language. 

It seems that the pilgrim is not so anxious 
to deliver up the goods, but holds the letter 
away from Bob’s outstretched hand. 

“Not so fast,” he says in plain English, 
which, however, does not appear so singular 


202 


Monsieur Bob. 


to Bob, his whole mind being wrapped np in 
the idea of gaining possession of the missive. 

‘‘It is mine,’’ he repeats, in English. 

“Finders, keepers — possession is nine points 
of the law,” returns this remarkable dervish. 

“ My name is Monsieur Bob ; you will find 
that written upon it,” declares the other, won- 
dering what keeps him from falling upon this 
tantalizing old rascal and wiping the earth 
with him. 

“That is true; I have already seen that. I 
will return it on one condition.” 

“Well, I am restraining my natural inclina- 
tion to jump in and thrash a man of your size, 
you see ; what is that condition ? ” 

“That you allow me to read it first,” is the 
astounding reply he receives. 

This arouses Bob’s suspicions, as it also 
gives him cause for anger. 

“I begin to think you are more than the 
poor dervish you seem.” With a quick move- 
ment he snatches away the covering that par- 
tially hides the face of the other, and immedi- 
ately exclaims: “Just as I thought! Mr. 
Musta-el-Gaber is on deck once more! ” 

Monsieur Bob is right at home here. Thank 
Heaven, this meeting does not occur inside of 
a mosque, as did their last one, where fear for 
the safety of the girl he loved tied his tongue 
and kept him from making a move. 


Monsieur Bob. 


203 


He knows the desperate nature of the man 
with whom he stands face to face; that man 
holds the note that carries his fate, the answer 
to the letter he sent Nina asking her to be his 
wife, and fly with him from Algiers on this 
very coming night. Were he ten times Mnsta- 
el-Gaber, Bob Crane would force him to hand 
over that precious document. 

The man from Chicago seems to visibly 
swell before the eyes of the other; his whole 
aspect becomes terrible, and he actually towers 
above his adversary, while his hands are out- 
stretched, and the powerful fingers work as if 
eager to clutch their prey. 

^‘Hand me that note, or by the prophet I fll 
pulverize you ! Hand it to me now !” he grits 
between his white teeth. 

‘‘Bah! What ifl should destroy it? ^Haunts 
the other, only half-subdued. 

“You could nT do it, man! I defy you. At 
the first tear I^d be upon you like a sirocco of 
the desert, and for that I^d murder you here 
and now; d’ye hear, Musta-el-Gaber ? You 
would never leave this place alive ! Oh ! scowl, 
if you please, and put your hand to your gir- 
dle; I know you are armed, but see here, this 
is what I call my gentle persuader ; if you draw 
a single weapon you’re a dead man.” 

The Algerian outlaw shrugs his shoulders 
when he finds himself covered with a Reming- 


204 


Monsieur Bob. 


ton six-shooter; he has looked into such tools 
before, and knows what terrible weapons they 
maybe in the hands of determined men. 

Philosophy enters into even such a life as his; 
at least he does not fail to see how much more 
advantageous it is for Musta-el-Gaber to live 
without this disputed letter, than for him to 
die while endeavoring to retain it. 

With a frown and a deep Arab curse he 
throws the weighted letter down. 

Perhaps he expects Monsieur Bob in his eager- 
ness to bend over and grasp for the missive, 
when he can easil3" jump upon him. This the 
American is too shrewd to do. He can see 
through a mill stone that has a hole in it. In- 
stead of bending down, he simply places afoot 
upon the letter which he has wrested from the 
other. The trusty six shooter still covers the 
Algerian land pirate, whose scowl becomes 
blacker than midnight, as he realizes that his 
last card is a total failure. 

Your road is down yonder; see that you do 
not stop until you are bcA’ond the turn. Go ! ” 
Monsieur Bob speaks like a master, and this 
man, who is accustomed to having others 
tremble at the sound of his voice, finds himself 
forced to obey as though he were a slave. If 
looks could kill, the scowl he gives Bob Crane 
as he turns and moves off must annihilate the 


Monsieur Bob. 


205 


Yankee, who, keeping an eye on the retreating 
Algerian, now stoops to secure the letter. 

He breaks the thread that secures the stone, 
and carefully places the, as yet, unread missive 
that carries his hopes and fears in the most se- 
cure pocket of his coat. Then he strides after 
the man whose presence in Algiers is a con- 
stant menace to him and the one he loves. 

Musta-el-Gaber soon turns into a side street 
that, if followed, will take him to the old part 
of the city, while Monsieur Bob, looking 
around, discovers a snug spot where he can 
peruse the missive which he is dying to read. 


CHAPTER YI. 


THE LION IN LOVE. 

Again Monsieur Bob arrives upon the public 
square. The sun is nearly ready to sink behind 
the hills in the west. It has really been quite 
an eventful day with his fortunes, and the 
night so near at hand promises to prove even 
more so. So long as everything works well 
Monsieur Bob is utterly indifferent with regard 
to any adventure that may befall him, since he 
has long lived in an atmosphere of excitement. 

He looks for his friends, and at first sees 
nothing of them , but after a little hears his name 
called as he walks down the square, and turn- 
ing his head beholds a huge cane waving in the 
window of a cafe near by. 

That is enough, sinee only one man in all Al- 
giers carries such a staff. The Honorable 
Felix must be there, and Bob enters. He finds 
Campertown alone, at which he marvels a 
little, and at once asks after the soldier, but 
the Briton shakes his head. 

‘‘DonT know; excused himself a short time 

after you left us ; ridiculous notion, of course, 
206 


Monsieur Bob. 


207 


but, d’ye know, I’ve an idea there was a female 
in the case ; yes, our woman-hater bids fair to 
be a masher, and you must look to your lau- 
rels.” 

^^Me? I’m out of the race, man! It lies be- 
tween you two, I reckon,” says Bob. 

'' Count me out, too ; that little Nanette has 
cured me of wanting to flirt,” declares Felix. 

”Ah! Well, Shack must go it alone, then; 
but how came you in this place ? ” 

^‘Beastly warm out there; looked cool in 
here, so I changed. I’ve been putting away 
ice-cream — ah I here we have it,” and bending 
out of the cafe window he punches his cane into 
the ribs of a passing gentleman, gives a gasp 
and bobs in again, turtle fashion, exclaiming: 

‘‘Ridiculous, j’-ou know, but I’ve punched the 
wrong chap, and I suppose I’m in for it! 
You’ll find my will and other papers, dear boy, 
in my pocket; carry out my last wishes, will 
you ? And tell Nanette I died game. Here he 
comes.” 

A deep bass voice is heard in the cafe; it is 
like the roar of a bull. 

“Where’s that monkey-faced man who in- 
sulted me ? Who tried to break my ribs with 
his club? I’m here to murder him; to break 
every bone in his body. Get out of the way, 
you frog-eating garcon A tumbling sound 
ensues, as of a waiter waltzing over the tables. 


208 


Monsieur Bob. 


know where he holds forth — watch me 
shake him.’^ 

As the last word is bellowed forth the cur- 
tain that separates the niche at the window 
from the main cafe is brushed furiously aside, 
and a big man strides into view ; a man who 
is boiling over with fierceness, and a desire to 
annihilate the party who has assaulted him. | 
He sees a rather peculiar scene; the little i 
bantam rooster does not cower in a corner, 
but rolls back the sleeves of his coat as though 
preparing for an unavoidable scrap, while i 
Monsieur Bob stands there hardly knowing 
whether to laugh or not. > 

“Keep your distance, sir;’^ cries the little 
man, as he raises his cane threateningly. 

The huge American traveler stares at him as 
though hardly able to believe his senses. This 
thing defying him? It seems absurd! Why, 
he can crush him with one hand, or, trying 
another dodge, rattle him to pieces b3^ shaking. 

He finds his voice again ; he roars invectives 
against the disturber of his peace ; he declares 
it his intention to wipe the floor with the Brit- 
on, as his forefathers did with the redcoats in 
’76, and is proceeding to put his threat into 
execution, when he runs against something 
that hurls him back half a dozen feet. That 
something is the arm of Monsieur Bob. 


i: 


Monsieur Bob. 


209 


For the first time the big man notices that 
the Specimen is not alone. 

“What! You here, Monsieur Bob Crane 
he exclaims, in wonder. 

The other coolly divests himself of his coat, 
and takes a step forward. 

“Senator, this is a friend of mine. He made 
a mistake, and is ready to apologize if you go 
about it the right way. When it comes to 
a fight, however, you understand he’s not in 
your class. I am his friend ; I will give you 
all the satisfaction you want in three minutes.’’ 

At this the big stranger laughs hoarsely. 

“And a deuced sight more than I want. Oh I 
yes, I know you. Monsieur Bob. So it was a 
mistake, was it ? I accept your apology, sir, 
only do n’t ever try it again. I’m all ginger, 
you see — I fly off the handle like wild-fire. 
Now, who in thunder did you take me for? ” 

The bulky senator from across the big pond 
does not want to fight as much as he thought 
he did; circumstances alter cases, you know. 
He is a loud-voiced, good-natured millionaire, 
seeing the world with the “gals,” meaning his 
wife and two daughters. Standing therewith 
his thumbs in the armholes of his vest, and a 
prize grin decorating his face — who could cher- 
ish animosity against such a man ? 

Upon being told that Felix mistook him for 

14 


210 


Monsieur Bob. 


Captain Shackelford, he shakes all over with 
lan^n^hter, as some recollection presents itself. 

‘‘Tit for tat! Pays me back for the joke I 
had on Shack, but I didn’t dream the beggar 
was in town ; ” and then he goes on to relate 
s 3me incident of the past where the captain 
got into trouble, which possesses enough comic 
qualities to make the others smile and the 
senator roar. 

Then he suddenly remembers that the “gals ’’ 
have been left in some place or other which may 
not be very pleasant once darkness falls, in- 
sists on shaking hands all around, invites the 
gentlemen to dine with himself and familj^, as 
a sight of familiar faces will be a boon to the 
‘ ‘ gals ’ ’ after seeing so many strangers, and then 
betakes himself off, much to the delight of 
Monsieur Bob, who fears lest they may be 
burdened with this loud-voiced monster. In 
his present condition he cannot take any stock 
in the shady stories of the bluff senator, and 
desires quiet. So they fall to watching the 
promenade again, hoping that the missing 
Shackelford will soon put in an appearance. 

Bob even grows nervous about the matter, 
but just when this feeling is approaching the 
desperate stage the object of their solicitude 
shows up, walking with a quick stride along 
the square. 

This time it is Bob who calls to him, since 


Monsieur Bob. 


211 


Campertown declares his eyesight is growing 
ridiculously defective without the use of his 
glass. At the sound of Bob’s voice Shackelford 
starts and shows much satisfaction. He speed- 
ily joins them in their snug retreat. 

Bob breathes easy again, for this looks as 
though fortune meant to be kind. His heart 
is full toward these friends who stand by him 
so nobly in his endeavor to win the girl he 
loves. Never, while he lives, will he forget such 
unselfish devotion. 

Shackelford says nothing regarding the cause 
of his detention, but buckles to the task of 
learning how Bob succeeded. The story is 
soon told. Then comes the letter. Of course 
Bob does not hand this around — that would 
be profaning something that is very sacred to 
him. 

Gentlemen, you will excuse me for not read- 
ing a portion of this letter; it is a personal 
matter; I know you will rejoice with me; suc- 
cess has attended my efforts; Nina will accom- 
pany us.” 

knew that letter would fetch her; I’ve 
been thinking about it ever since. Why, dear 
boy, you put it to her in an unanswerable 
light; you showed her how treachery sur- 
rounded her ; that to stay meant the sacrifice 
of her life to that friend of her uncle— that 


212 


Monsieur Bob. 


monster Musta-el-Gaber/^ says Felix, with 
animation. ^ 

“Nevertheless,’^ smiles Bob, “those were not 
the arguments that did the business. It was 
really my threat to remain and meet my fate 
unless she consented to go that brought Nina 
to terms.” 

“I will remember that,” mutters the Speci- 
men. “In dealing with fickle woman a man 
cannot be too well armed with such notions. 
Ridiculous notion of mine, but quite true. By 
the way. Bob.” 

“Yes,” answers the other. 

“You still have a copy of that letter? 

“Safe and sound, old fellow,” touching the 
breast of his coat to indicate that it reposes 
there. 

“Keep it, dear boy; no telling what uses it 
may yet come to. A human destiny may hang 
upon it.” 

“Now let’s return to our mutton,” inter- 
rupts the soldier, out of patience with this side 
play; “what part of the letter do you intend 
to read, Bob? ” for the other has the missive 
in his hands, and is evidently about to give 
them the benefit of a portion. 

“Acting under my directions, Nina has writ- 
ten out a very plain and substantial descrip- 
tion of the course she means to pursue.” 

“We haye already had a specimen of her 


Monsieur Bob. 


213 


work/’ says Shackelford, referring to the other 
letter. 

Bob begins to read : * 

“ ‘ I will endeavor to follow out this plan as elosely as eir- 
eumstances will allow. Our house is elosed and locked like 
a castle at ‘about nine o’clock at night. No one can leave it 
except from some upper window by means of a rope ladder. 
Marhara, as I know her now, is very suspicious, and will 
not leave me, but I shall find an opportunity to make use 
of a drug that has long been in my possession. She must 
sleep. What you have told me has caused me to make up 
my mind. I am determined to leave the shelter of my 
treacherous uncle’s house before the rising of another sun. 
You see. Monsieur Bob, how much I trust to your honor as 
a gentleman. Ever3'thing is in your hands. Mark, now, 
what I write, and let nothing change the arrangements : 

“ ‘At eleven o’clock exactly, I shall come to my window. 
It is the third from the corner, and faces the harbor — on the 
third floor in the rear. Just below are the rose bushes. 
Among these Monsieur Bob hides. When he hears several 
pebbles drop, feel for the cord which I shall have lowered. 
To this attach the rope ladder, which must be provided; 
there will be something to which it may be fastened above; 
after that all will be easy sailing.’ ” 

The Honorable Felix groans dismally. 

‘‘What’s the matter?” exclaims Shackel- 
ford. 

“My goose is cooked ! ” 

“The deuce! What ails the man?” 

“I’m a gone case; knocked out in the first 
round; done brown, dear boys,” he says 
faintly. 

“Good Heavens! Has the man been pois- 


214 


Monsieur Bob. 


oned, or secretly wounded cries Bob, but 
the captain shakes his head. 

‘‘I’m more of the opinion that it ’s something 
in yonder letter has disagreed with him.” 

“That’s it,” says Felix, opening his eyes 
and showing some signs of animation,” you 
see she’s decided to leave Nanette behind ; per- 
haps that el-Gaber will take a notion to carry 
her off ; I shall have to remain and murder 
him ! ” 

“Nonsense, man! Further on she speaks of 
her dear Nanette accompanying her. You 
jump at conclusions too readily,” says Bob. 

“ Ridiculous fool! Pardon me, dear boys. I 
am dumb from henceforth.” 

“Proceed, Bob.” 

‘“Remember the time and place. We will be in dispair if 
you do not come. Beware of the dog ! Uncle keeps a huge 
hound in the yard, and he is very fierce. We will pray for 
your success, Monsieur Bob.’ ” 

He stops here. 

“That is about all that will interest you, my 
friends. What do you think of it? ” 

“Plain enough for a blind man to follow. 
We must make or secure that rope ladder one 
of the first things of all. How long would it 
have to be, d ’ye think. Bob,” asks the captain. 

Bob hazards a guess at twenty-five feet. 

“That is good. We’ll secure it ^om^ehow. 


Monsieur Bob. 


218 


See here, Camp, whaCs engaging your serious 
thoughts? 

For answer the Specimen gives a sudden 
snarl, and clutches Shackelford^s leg below the 
knee in a fierce clasp. It is an eloquent illus- 
tration, and impresses the others profoundly. 

“Ah ! I see — the dog! Quite a serious piece of 
business, to be sure. How shall the animal be 
disposed of? That’s a delicate question, for 
even if we keep him from an attack his racket 
may arouse the house and precipitate a riot.” 

“Leave him to me,” remarks Campertown. 

“ Can you manage him ? ” 

“I’m positive of it ; brought up among dogs ; 
alwa^^s knew their tricks ; never saw but one 
I couldn’t work to suit me; let that be my 
share of the elopement, dear boys.” 

The others are only too glad to have the 
matter thus disposed of, nor do they doubt the 
ability of the little man to accomplish what he 
so confidently takes upon himself. 

When the time comes Campertown will in all 
probability do his share of the work in a man- 
ner that may surprise them. Let them look to 
tteir own laurels'. 

By this time the night has fully set in, and 
many lights have appeared upon the plaza. 
Bob invites his friends to dine with him, and 
as they accept, the trio proceed to his hotel, 


^16 


Monsieur Bob. 


where they are soon seated before the best that 
money can procure in Algiers. 

The conversation is general until Bob has 
dismissed the waiter, and then, as is natural, 
the subject most pressing upon their minds 
comes to the surface again. 

Bob notices that the soldier regards him in a 
peculiar way, and a suspicion finds lodgment 
within his mind. 

'‘Better have it out. Shack,’’ he says, laugh- 
ing. 

The other makes a show of looking sur- 
prised. 

“What the deuce do you mean. Bob ? ” he de- 
mands. 

“ Confession is good for the soul.” 

“Well?” 

“You have something on your mind. Out 
with it, man. What kept you away from the 
square this evening, when you knew we’d be 
anxious? ” 

Shackelford looks as though hehardly knows 
whether to be annoyed or not. 

“ Confound your sharp eyes. Bob ! A fellow 
can’t keep a secret from you.” 

“ There’s no need, my dear fellow. What ails 
that arm of yours — the left one? ” 

“What! You’ve got on to that also? ” 

“I noticed you were mighty careful of it, and 
when I laid my hand on it you pulled away 


Monsieur Bob. 


217 


like a man with a boil on his neck. What tin 
der the sun have you been up to, Aleck? 

At this the other gives a short laugh. 

‘‘I’m at the confessional, eh? ” 

“Just so.” 

“And must swear to tell the truth and noth- 
ing but the truth, so help me? ” 

“Ridiculous, but true,” murmurs the Speci- 
men. 

“Of course, don’t do it if it doesn’t concern 
us,” sa3^s Bob, hastily. 

“Well, both of you have had your turn, and 
I reckon I’m in for it,” the captain replies, 
grimly. 

Monsieur Bob and the little Briton exchange 
looks of significance; this complication of mat- 
ters seems to please them rather than other- 
wise. When men are in a trap it is human to 
desire company, and they have dreaded the 
keen satire of the old woman-hater. 

Shackelford makes a queer beginning. He 
proceeds to slowly draw back the left sleeve of 
his loose, semi-military coat, doing this in a 
gingerly fashion, as though unwilling to in- 
flict unnecessary pain upon himself. 

This action speedily reveals the fact that he 
has something tied around his arm. Bob and 
Felix bend forward to scrutinize, while the 
other sits there like a martyr. 


218 


Monsieur Bob. 


‘‘Bless my soul, a handkerchief!’^ gasps 
Bob. 

“By Jove! A delicate cobweb — a perfumed 
atom of lace worth carrying by a princess — 
perfumed with intoxicating attar of roses — 
yes, a lady’s kerchief, as sure as fate ! ’’breathes 
Felix. 

Shackelford, the old war-dog, chuckles as 
though it is a great joke, while he carefully 
draws down his sleeve again. He knows the 
others are very anxious to hear his story, but, 
having the advantage, does not mean to hurry. 

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a glance 
around to see that they are not near any per- 
sons whose ears might pick up what he is 
about to say, and then proceeds : 

“Perhaps either of you gentlemen may be a 
scoffer at fate and its mysterious working. 
If so I’d like you to explain certain facts con- 
nected with this case. 

“When I left you, Campertown, this after- 
noon, it was really on what might be called a 
trivial errand — at least I never suspected I 
would meet my fate by carrying out a notion. 
That is where destiny took hold of me, you 
see.” 

“Destiny be hanged ! I believe a man carves 
out his fortunes by his good right arm,” says 
Monsieur Bob, with enthusiasm. 

“Very good, my dear fellow, but I’ve seen 


Monsieur Bob. 


219 


some queer things in my time that corroborate 
my ideas. I could tell half a dozen instances 
that T have in mind, to prove it.” 

“For Heaven's sake, don't do it!'' groans 
Bob. 

“Now, there was the time — '' 

“Stick to your text — ridiculous waste of 
time — we've got an amazing amount of work 
to do I '' breaks in the little Briton. 

The soldier smiles, but yields the point. 

“I reserve these odd instances to a more con- 
venient season, and go to facts. I remembered 
the widow of an old friend, a Colonel Acton, 
whose death came about through injuries re- 
ceived at the storming of Alexandria. I had 
faithfully promised to run out and see her be- 
fore I left Algiers, and, as I am a man of my 
word, I was glad to find I would have good 
time to make the trip between the hour I left 
Camp, here, and evening. 

“I spent a short time with the widow, talk- 
ing over the time Joe and myself were togeth- 
er, for you know we stood shoulder to shoul- 
der at the great battles around Plevna, when 
the Russians charged like demons, and the 
Turks broke line to meet the enemy half way, 
so eager they were for the battle. 

“At last I knew I ought to go, and bade the 
widow of my old friend good-bye. Then I set 
out to join you both on the square. 


220 


Monsieur Bob. 


My ‘errand had taken me out of the city 
proper, and I found myself on the road where 
a number of veiled Moorish ladies were com- 
ing down from a cemetery, where I suppose, as 
is the custom here, they had been spending the 
day. Besides, there were Arab women and 
bare-footed Kabyls, the latter of whom, you 
know, do not hide theirugly faces on the street. 

“ I noticed three hang-dog looking men lurk- 
ing at a certain point ; they were there when I 
went past before, and on my return I again set 
eyes on them. It struck me that they could 
not be here after any good, espeeially when I 
saw a number of horses tied amid a thieket of 
aloes near by. 

*‘They paid no attention to me, probably 
disdaining to notice an infidel dog. Just at 
this moment a lady, whose rich apparel indi- 
cated her position, came along, a servant fol- 
lowing behind. Of course she was dressed as 
they all are, but you know it is easy to tell a 
rieh Moorish lady; some of them wear dia- 
monds, although, generally, all these things 
are kept for the home ; but you know contact 
with European ladies is bound to give ’em new 
ideas. 

“I was struck with the grace of this lady’s 
carriage, and although I couldn’t see her face 
on account of the abominable foutah, I was 
ready to swear that one who had the form of 


Monsieur Bob. 


221 


a Hebe mast also possess a lovely counte- 
nance.” 

Monsieur Bob coughs; he already sees light 
ahead, and it pleases him. Oh, what a joke it 
is to see this old woman-hater in the toils at 
last! 

Shackelford casts a quizzical glance in his 
direction, but has evidently made up his mind 
to unbosom himself, for he continues with the 
same resolute determination that has always 
marked his career as a soldier. 

^Ht was just as I had expected; these three 
scoundrels were lying in wait to kidnap a 
woman in broad daylight, which proves that 
they do not fear the law, and must belong to 
the desert riders who laugh the French to 
scorn. 

‘‘The first thing I heard was a scream from 
the Arab maid following behind her mistress, 
and as I wheeled, bless my soul if the fellows 
hadn’t thrown some sort of blanket over the 
lady, and were hurrying her off to the horses. 

“That was as plain an invitation as ever I 
had in all my life, and I tell you, gentlemen, the 
blood leaped in me like molten lava when I 
realized the audacity of the thing. 

“I sailed in; we had a hot little time of it — 
quite an interesting engagement ! One of the 
chaps foolishly banged his head against my fist, 
and I plainly heard it crack; at any rate he 


222 


Monsieur Bob. 


turned a complete somersault and rolled into 
the ditch, where he lies yet, unless rescued. 

“The fellow who was making off with the 
lady realized the gravity of the situation, for 
he dropped his burden and joined his remain- 
ing comrade in a rush. I 

“I met ^em half way, and for about ten sec- | 
onds w'^e had the loveliest time imaginable. I 
left the print of my fingers on one chap’s 
throat, and got the other fellow’s head in chan- 
cery, pummeling him, while he roared and 
shrieked for mercy. I reckon they got all they 
wanted of Aleck Shackelford ; at any rate, the 
next thing I knew they were on a couple of 
horses and going over the country of Sahel like 
demons. 

“The field being cleared, I gallantly assisted 
the confused lady to arise, and drew the blank- 
et away with which they had half strangled 
her. In so doing her veil was also dragged off) 
and my ravished eyes looked on a face that 
sent my poor bachelor heart to throbbing like 
a volcano ! A face for a Meissonier to paint — 
undoubtedly the loveliest imthe world ! ” 

“I knew it,” mutters Bob. 

“You ridiculous turncoat,” chuckles Felix, 
endeavoring to punch the captain in the ribs 
with his huge cane, and then suddenly ceasing 
his efforts as he remembers the awful results 
of his last attempt in that line. “By Jove! I 


Monsieur Bob. 


223 


forgot that I haven’t my glass in position; it 
won’t do to be careless in these desperate 
times.” 

‘‘Joke away, boys, I’m one of you now; I 
confess it, with pleasure. Yes, I fell dead in 
love at first sight. Lucky dog that I was to 
have even a fleeting look at that divine face, 
before the abominable veil was readjusted. 

“To proceed; you can understand that by 
this time there was quite a little excitement 
around that region — women shrieking and 
clustering about, while some French soldiers, 
running up, surrounded me, acting under the 
belief that I was the cause of the tumult. 

“What they would have done I don’t know, 
but just then the beauty whom I had had the 
pleasure to rescue from those fiends of Arabs 
turned upon them, and in the purest French 
explained what had occurred. 

“ If I was pleased with her face and figure, I 
was charmed by her voice and manner. I was 
bound to know more of her, and upon my soul 
felt sorry that I meant so soon to leave Al- 
giers!” 

“ Oh ! That didn’t last,” said Bob contempt- 
uously. 

“That’s just about where you strike it square 
in the center, my dear fellow,” continues the 
soldier, coolly. “You see, I was desirous of 
finding out her identity, and to get away 


224 


Monsieur Bob. 


from the crowd, so like any other man I asked 
to see her home. You never yet saw a foreign- 
er walking with a Moorish lady on the street, 
and I was doubtful about her granting my re- 
quest, but bless you, she did ! 

‘'I found by this time that I was hurt — 
didn’t know it before, I assure you. One of 
those beasts of pirates must have stuck me 
with a knife of some sort, for there was a hole 
in my arm below the elbow. She saw me wipe 
the blood away with my handkerchief, and 
nothing would do but that one of the French- 
men, whom she seemed to know as a surgeon, 
should examine the cut. 

‘‘He stopped the bleeding with some salve 
he had on his person, and when he asked for 
something to bandage the arm, bless my soul 
if she didn’t wrap that cobweb around it! 
Money couldn’t buy that from Aleck Shackel- 
ford ! When she tied that around his arm she 
gave him a wound worse than the one she 
cured — a wound that will prove a fatal mala- 
dy, I reckon I ’’ 

“Heart disease generally is, dearboy. Ridic- 
ulously romantic — do proceed,” says Felix, 
happy in the thought that the same terrible 
malady has beset them all alike. 

“It is soon done. I walked home with her; 
she lived in the native quarter, of course. I 
knew it was time I sought my friends, but be- 


Monsieur Bob. 


225 


lieved they wonld pardon me for onee. I met 
m\^ eharmer’s father, heard him bless me as 
the savior of his beloved ehild, once again feast- 
ed my eyes upon her beaut3", and finally tore 
m3^selfawa3^ promising Abdul — ” 

“Abdul!” almost shrieks the Specimen, sit- 
ting bolt upright and staring hard at the cap- 
tain. 

“Of course,” returns that worthy, “that’s 
where the hand of destiny comes in 1 The girl 
was Zella ! ” 

“ Count me a believer in destiny, after this. 
That floors me, I vow! ” says Felix feebly. 

“You can imagine my delight when I discov- 
ered this fact. It seemed as though everything 
was bound to come out just right- I no long- 
er had any inclination to resist the decree 
Monsieur Bob had laid upon liie, but obeyed 
his order, and not only fell in love, but tum- 
bled headlong into the chasm.” 

“ What more could be expected when a man 
goes fifty years without ever having once suf- 
fered an attack of the divine fever? If it ever 
does come it will down him like a baby ; all his 
vaunted strength, all his former scoffs and rail- 
lery will only contribute to make his fall the 
more speedy,” says wise Monsieur Bob, from 
his standpoint of thirty-three. 

“I believe you. Bob, old fellow; I haven’t a 
word to say in my behalf. Consider me a fel- 

15 


226 


Monsieur Bob. 


low sufferer from the shafts of Cupid. Here 
we are, three men in the same boat ; let each 
believe his inamorata the fairest in the world, 
and then wish success to the others. My yarn 
is done. It is now seven o’clock, and, as we 
have a mighty serious bit of business before 
us this night, I move that all levity be fore- 
sworn, also allusions to the past, and let each 
man, in his own peculiar way, put his shoulder 
to the wheel.” 

“Well said. Captain. The immediate future 
has enough of trouble in store for us without 
bringing up the past. That will do to joke 
about when we are lying around upon the 
deck of the Skip-jack^ taking a sun bath, with 
the trio of fair ladies near by to gladden our 
eyes.” 

“Bob, dear boy, forbear. The picture 
3^ou present is only too exceedingly charming. 
My heart grows cold when I think of the 
chances we take. To wear, we must first win,” 
bursts out Felix. 

“Listen to the philosopher laying down the 
law ! You have as many sides to your charac- 
ter as a dice, Campertown — clown, duelist, 
schemer, philosopher, and Heaven knows not 
what!” 

“Not coward or villain, I trust,” remarks 
Felix, softly. 

‘ ‘ Never. There’s more bravery to the square 


Monsieur Bob. 


227 


inch in that small body of yours than most 
men can show/^ cries Bob, warmly. 

And so they sit and talk and plan for nearly 
half an hour longer. The smallest details are 
gone into, and each man knows his part, so 
that when these are put together the machine 
is bound to run smoothly unless something 
which can not be foreseen gets in the way. 

It is really a solemn conference, for much de- 
pends upon the result of their work. Finally 
they separate, to go different ways, each with 
a grim determination to bring success if it is to 
be attained through any individual effort upon 
his part. 


CHAPTER YII. 


AT THE RISING^ OF THE MOON. 

Each has his duty to perform, and perhaps 
none can be more important than that of the 
old soldier. His mind has not lain idle ever 
since he found himself commissioned to procure 
a rope ladder twenty-five feet long, but he has 
already in his mind managed the details of the 
matter. 

Such a thing it is utterly out of the question 
to think of buying — it must be manufactured. 
To get the material is what bothers him. In 
an American city he would have known just 
where to go, but it is a different thing in an 
Algerian town after nightfall. 

Already he has in mind two places, at one of 
whichhemaybe successful. Ropeis not needed ; 
that is only a name for it. What he especially 
desires is a quantity of heavy twine, about the 
heaviest that is made into balls. Such stuff 
would hold the weight of two men, and surely 
it could not break when Nina trusted herself 
to it. 

As soon as he parts from his companions the 
228 


Monsieur Bob. 


229 


old soldier heads for a certain bazar near by, 
where all manner of things are offered for sale 
by the shrewd Turk who runs the establish- 
ment. 

This will not be Shackelford^s first trip to 
the place, as he has bought tobacco here, and 
also a number of small things. It strikes him 
that he can remember seeing a quantity of 
balls of heavy twine dangling in one corner of 
the bazar, which would suit his purpose. Even 
if too weak, he can double the cord. 

Fortune is kind, for he finds just what he 
wants exactly. He invests and sits down to 
his work then and there. 

The Turk is interested, and Shackelford gives 
him a hint that he is about to run away with 
a charming girl. Although this is a curious 
thing to the Oriental, who is in the hab- 
it of buying all the wives he cares to keep, it 
strikes his interest by its novelty, and he offers 
several suggestions which Shackelford takes 
advantage of, proving that in most of the af- 
fairs of life two heads are better than one. 

His manner of going about the job is pecul- 
iar. First he lays two side ropes, nearly thir- 
ty feet in length. Beginning at one end, he 
ties crosspieces about a foot long, in spaces of 
some fifteen inches. As these have to be knot- 
ted to the sides, it is something of a tedious 
job. It takes some twenty of them to fill the 


230 


Monsieur Bob. 


bill, for the side ropes shorten after many knots 
have been tied in them. 

Finally this part of the captain’s job is com- 
pleted, but Shackelford is not done. Hefastens 
several light but strong pieces of steel across, 
so as to keep the ladder in shape as much as 
possible. If he had the time and means he 
would arrange the top after the manner in 
vogue with fire ladders, but as it is, plenty of 
cord must do instead. 

When the thing is done Shackelford has a 
feeling of intense pride. He surveys his handi- 
work critically, and tests every knot. Even 
this is not enough, and he makes a suggestion 
to the Turk, who grins and acquiesces. 

Together they proceed above, and the new 
ladder is fastened securely. Then the old war- 
dog runs up and down with the agility of a 
veteran fireman. Nothing gives, and there is 
one proud man in the city of Algiers that 
night. 

He now makes it up into a compact pack- ' 
age, being careful to arrange it so that there 
will be no twisting. Then he ties a piece of 
black cloth around the whole; paper would 
not do, even if he could get it, as the rustling 
and rattling of a stiff newspaper might be the 
cause of their detection in the garden of Os- 
man Digna. 

Then Shackelford pays the Turk a price that 


Monsieur Bob. 


231 


makes that worthy put his tongue into his 
left cheek after the manner of a pleased Orient- 
al, and wish the veteran all success in his en- 
terprise. 

Shackelford still has time on his hands before 
going to the rendezvous, but as his prepara- 
tions have all been made, he feels that it might 
be wise for him to head in that direction. 
While he thus passes on it might be well to see 
how the other conspirators manage. 

Monsieur Bob heads for the quay when he 
leaves his friends, and soon draws near the 
spot where, if his orders have been carried out, 
he will find the boat. 

All is darkness now. 

As his eyes fail to discover the object they 
seek, he finally gives a little whistle. 

This has the desired effect. A human form 
comes toward him. 

‘‘That you, Mr. Crane asks a low voice. 

“ On deck here ; where’s the boat ? ” 

“Just to the left, sir. We found a little 
steamer lands where you arranged to have us 
stay. Here we are, sir,” and the English sail- 
or points down to where a dark object rises 
and falls on the waves. 

“That voice sounds like John Burrows.” 

“True for you, sir,” replies the other. 

“Good! You have taken some one off, 
John?” 


232 


Monsieur Bob. 


A gentleman and liis daughter — a Moor, I 
reckon, from his talk. They mentioned your 
name. It was just after dark. One trunk they 
brought. Several servants carried it, sir.^^ 

“ And they are on board the yacht ? ’’ 

Ay, sir, safe and sound. The captain’s 
eyes stuck out when he saw ’em. Bless me, 
how he swore under his breath ! ” 

‘‘He will swear harder than that before I’m 
through with him. Captain Burrows.” 

“Sir!” vStammers the honest sailor, aghast. 

“I said, Captain Burrows. I mean it. From 
this hour you are captain of the yacht, though 
not a soul must know it until I give the word. 
Let Paxton have enough rope to hang him- 
self.” 

“ God bless you, sir ! Not a word shall es- 
cape my lips. This will be brave news for my 
dear old mother. Will you kindly let me shake 
hands with you, sir? ” 

Bob accommodates him with a grip heis like- 
ly to remember, although he does not wince. 

“I have come down here to change your lo- 
cation, Burrows. There is a little cove that is 
much more convenient for my purpose. I pur- 
pose now to go with you and take you to the 
spot.” 

“ Very good, sir.” 

“Was there sail on the yacht when you 
left?” 


Monsieur Bob. 


233 


^‘Yes, sir. While we were getting the old 
Moor and his daughter the captain had been 
at it, and now the j^acht lies at anchor with all 
her canvas afloat. 

‘‘The breeze is favorable, too?’^ 

“A gentle sou-east, with an inclination to 
dip further south. Couldn’t be better, sir.” 

“ Ah, the gods favor us ! I will embark, Bur- 
rows.” 

In another minute Monsieur Bob has en- 
tered the boat, and is gliding slowly along, the 
craft keeping close to the shore. 

Thus they move, more like a phantom boat 
than a real one, until Bob knows from various 
signs that they are nearing the place he seeks. 
Then his caution increases, and finally they 
enter a small cove. Here the boat is secured, 
and Bob gives directions which the two sail- 
ors are to keep before their minds. 

He is ready for business now, and as he 
makes his way toward the rendezvous. Bob 
finds himself in a fever of impatience. The time 
is near at hand when everything must be 
staked on the turn of a die. Thoughts which 
have not worried him before now arise to 
bother him. Perhaps the enemy has not been 
idle. The man he feels most uneasy about is 
Musta-el-Gaber. Is that worthy on the watch ? 
He may have had his suspicions aroused by 


234 


Monsieur Bob. 


Bob’s actions at the time the latter received the 
love-letter over the garden wall. 

Bob grows more anxious with the flight of 
each passing minute, for he realizes that it 
brings them nearer the climax. His fate will 
be decided ere long. All the same he retains a 
wonderful amount of coolness, for it is not his 
nature to become broken up simply because 
danger shows her red flag. 

The rendezvous at last ! 

He gives the signal and receives an answer. 
It is Shackelford’s tall, soldierly form that 
rises to meet him, and the veteran’s cheery 
voice that rings in his ears. 

He learns with pleasure that the rope ladder 
is no longer a figure of speech, but a reality — 
that Shackelford carries it under his arm. 

“Feel it, my boy; light enough, yet strong; 
yes, it would bear you and I together. No 
danger of a wreck ; we’ll have ’em both out, 
Bob, and by midnight be safe on board, out- 
ward bound.” 

This sort of talk cheers Bob up; Heaven 
knows he has need of being cheered. They fall 
to comparing notes, and Bob tells how the 
boat is now much closer than before. He ex- 
plains how it can be reached, for it may be 
some freak of fortune might separate them, and 
each have to go upon his own hook. 

Then they fall to wondering where Camper- 


Monsieur Bob. 


235 


town can be. Somehow they feel a deep solici- 
tude about the peculiar little Briton. Odd 
genius that he is, he has a heart of gold, and 
more than once his actions have proved this in 
the past. 

Still he does not show up. The time draws 
near the appointed hour. They begin to feel 
worried lest some accident may have befallen 
him. 

The moon peeps into view. 

Bob growls to himself, and moves rest- 
lessly. 

“All will be spoiled if he fails us,” he laments. 

“No, we will simply go without him. Per- 
haps in trjdng to subdue the hound he has fall- 
en into the clutches of the master,” suggests 
the captain, who philosophically smokes as he 
waits. 

“Then we would have to rescue him. I 
could n’t go off and leave a man like Camp in 
trouble.” 

“He’s coming,” says the other, quietly. 

“How d’ye know, Aleck ? ” 

cigar has lost its flavor — bah!” and 
he tosses the fragrant weed aside. 

Monsieur Bob “catches on,” as it were; he 
uses his olfactories with a definite result. 

“Ah! I comprehend; the odor of his villain- 
ous cigarette precedes him ! ” he laughs. 

“Ridiculously cruel, dear boy— a slander on 


^36 


Monsieur Bob. 


the cherished idol of my fancy. But then vsome 
people don't know a good thing when they 
smell it. Here I am on deck, fellows, and none 
too soon." 

The voice is succeeded by the Specimen him- 
self, coolly advancing from out of the shad- 
ows. He looks just the same as usual, only 
Bob has an idea his garments do not set so 
neatly. Campertown has been to the war. 

Briefly Bob tells him where the boat now 
lies, and describes how it can be reached. Then 
the captain holds up his package and informs 
the little Briton that the rope ladder is there, 
ready for the business in hand. 

They await his report, which is of much in- 
terest to them because a great deal depends 
upon the quieting of the dog in the garden. 
The Honorable Felix chuckles a little and tells 
his tale. 

He has secured, first of all, a piece of meat. 
Then at an apothecary shop some strychnine 
is bought. A combination of these two are 
guaranteed to knock out the stoutest dog in 
all Algeria, and in an incredibl^^ short space of 
time. 

Thus armed and equipped Campertown had 
made his way toward the scene of action. He 
found the remnant of the old tower, and 
climbed upward, just as Bob had done. Fort- 
unately he was something of an acrobat. 


Monsieur Bob. 


237 


though so small, and after some manipulation 
managed to reach the top. 

Perhaps his progress had been marked by 
some sounds that were apt to reach sharp ears. 
At any rate, when he came to look over the 
wall of the garden he heard low growling, and 
could see a pair of yellow glaring eyes that 
seemed to be watching him intently. 

This pleased Campertown immensely. He 
coolly cut a piece from the chunk of doctored 
meat, took aim as well as he could in the dark- 
ness, and tossed it over the wall. 

The yellow eyes vanished for a minute; he 
believed he heard certain sounds that indicated 
success, and then once more the glaring orbs 
appeared, if possible more eager and snappy 
than ever. 

Felix repeated the performance, and soon 
had the dog trained so that he caught the 
pieces on the fly; after each throw would 
come a strange noise, not unlike a frog leaping 
into a pond, and then the eyes would ask for 
more. 

When^ Campertown had thus disposed of his 
stock, he began to think about getting down. 
As with Bob, it was easier to climb up than to 
descend ; but fortune was kind. He only fell 
when near the bottom, and did not hurt him- 
self to any extent. The balance of his advent- 


238 


Monsieur Bob. 


ures had better be told in his own peculiar, 
jerky favshion. 

‘‘Thought that was the end of it; bless 
you, dear boys, it was only a starter! Ridic- 
ulous, too; it was a dog that took me there, 
and a dog that got me into difficulty. You 
see it was infernally dark. I managed to run 
across a cur. By Jove I he gave me a start ; ran 
out and snapped at my legs in an audacious 
manner. 

“Well, that was past enduring, so I gave 
him the benefit of a kick ; you see, I used to 
play foot ball at Rugby ; I’m something of a 
rusher, if I do say it myself. Jove! I never 
made a neater kick in all my blessed life ! The 
little cur sailed over a wall, yelping like mad. 
That was all very fine, but out rushes a man 
and proceeds to do me up for murdering his 
dog. 

“I objected, gentlemen, the best I knewhow, 
and showed the ruffian that I had taken box- 
ing lessons at Oxford. We had a lovely scrap ; 
I went over twice, but was up like a wink and 
hammering away. 

“Jove ! I brought him to terms, dear boys ; 
I had him on his knees, the big bully, begging 
my pardon I He even invited me to come and 
kick his dog whenever I took the notion ; said 
it would be good for the saucy little cur; he’d 
learn to let gentlemen alone on the street. 


Monsieur Bob. 


239 


“ After this affair was over I felt that I need- 
ed some attention, for I had bled mj man by 
a lucky up stroke, and — well, you see I 
wasn't in a presentable condition to appear 
before my adorable Nanette. So, dear boys, 
I hied me away to my rooms and washed up. 
Then I set out for the place of meeting, and 
here we are." 

Monsieur Bob and Shackelford express their 
pleasure at the probable success of their plans, 
for it really looks as though they have every- 
thing running about as they could wish. It is 
not given to us mortals to raise the curtain 
and look into the future. There are times 
when we believe it would be greatly to our ad- 
vantage if we could only know how events 
were about to shape themselves, so that we 
might prepare to receive them. 

The black wall of the future, which only re- 
treats before the advance of the present, con- 
ceals the destinies of all men, and to no hu- 
man soul is given the power to pierce its hid- 
den recesses. 

“We must be on the move," says Shackel- 
ford, as he rises to his feet. 

His words electrify the others ; they mean 
that the time for action has come, when they 
must put their fate to the test and dare all. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


WHAT CAME DOWN THE CAPTAIN’S ROPE 
• LADDER. 

Three desperate men thus begin to mate 
their way toward the hill of Mustapha Supe- 
rieur, their minds bent upon a double elopement. 
It is a charming night — too bright to suit their 
purposes, and they welcome each cloud that 
passes over the face of the moon. Never in all 
their lives have they been more on the alert, 
for with two of them, at least, the results of 
this strange adventure mean life long happi- 
ness in case of success, or regret should failure 
come. 

Even the veteran is deeply interested. There 
was a time, not so very far back either, when 
he would have been amazed to have found 
himself engaged in any such work as assisting 
in an elopement, but times have changed, and 
the old woman-hater is being led a captive, 
bound by the silken web of Cupid’s weaving. 
Things look very different to him now. The 
appearance of anything alwa^’^s depends upon 
the vantage spot from whence it is surveyed. 

240 


Monsieur Bob. 


241 


Agreed to do their utmost to make the game 
a success, the trio move forward to the assault. 
They fear no foe; all they ask is the favor of 
fortune in permitting them to get the ladies 
safely out of the Castle Despair. When that 
has been accomplished they stand ready to 
carve a passage through serried ranks of ene- 
mies if need be in order to finish their work. 

The garden wall looms up before them, 
gloomy and forbidding, but it does not daunt 
their brave hearts. On one side is the ruined 
tower. From what he has heard of this Shack- 
elford believes he can make use of his rope lad- 
der. 

He whispers to Bob, who catches on to the 
idea instantly, and, leaving Felix below, the 
two begin to climb the old tower. Once at the 
top it is Shackelford’s idea to remove the three 
rods of steel from the rope ladder, and cast 
this latter after the manner of a lasso over the 
stone wall, until the loops get entangled in the 
bushes beyond. Then, while Bob holds the 
other end, he will cross by this bridge, formed 
in the African way Stanley tells us about, until 
at last he finds himself perched upon the wall. 
After that it will be eas3^ to drop the ladder to 
the Specimen below, and both he and Bob can 
mount at their leisure. 

All this is due to Shackelford, for it is his in- 
ventive genius that has designed the plan. It 
16 


242 


Monsieur Bob. 


is successful, too. The captain has perhaps 
tossed the lasso in some of his past years ; at 
any rate he manipulates the rope with a dex- 
terity no amateur could show. 

Of course much of the casting is done in a 
hap-hazard way, for, although the moon 
shines, they ean only see the bushes be- 
yond the wall, and have no way of distinguish- 
ing any projection upon which the loops may 
cateh. 

Shackelford is persistent ; one failure does 
not daunt him, nor half a dozen, for that mat- 
ter. He keeps sending the rope out, trying all 
along the garden wall, until at length it fails 
to slip off — something has eaught the loop. 

Testing it first, he finds that it holds ; pull as 
he may he cannot tear it loose. 

‘‘That settles it; take hold. Bob; I depend 
on you, at any rate. It would be an ugly 
tumble down there on those roeks,’^ he says, 
and Bob thinks so, too, for he is determined 
that, come what will, nothing shall tear his 
end loose. 

Shaekelford^s method is peculiar, and yet 
shows the wisdom of a long head. He strad- 
dles the rope ladder with his face toward Bob. 
There is a purpose in this ; if either end goes it 
will be the one over the wall, and in the event 
of such an accident he desires to drop feet 


Monsieur Bob. 


243 


down, holding on to the ladder. This will 
only swing him against the ruined tower. 

His progress is downward, as Bob's posi- 
tion is higher than the top of the wall. The 
latter keeps his eyes fixed on the veteran ; he 
sees him glide along ; now he reaches the mid- 
dle, and, pausing not, pushes on for the prom- 
ised land. 

A minute of suspense and he has backed up 
against the wall ; at last he creeps upon the 
stones. Then a low whistle sounds, and obey- 
ing the signal Bob lowers his end of the ladder 
to the ground by means of a guy-rope. 

Again he has to descend that uncanny place, 
where a tumble is always so imminent. His 
former experience stands him in good service 
now, however, for he remembers just where this 
loose stone lies, and how he put his foot into 
this or that hole; in the course of a few min- 
utes he has made the descent without a single 
accident occurring. 

He finds Campertown has drawn the 
ladder over against the wall, and all is in read- 
iness for them to make the effort. Before a 
word can be said, the little Briton squeezes 
Bob's arm as though he desires to whisper in 
his ear. 

‘‘Bend down, dear boy," he breathes, and 
wondering, the other obeys, for it is evident 


244 


Monsieur Bob. 


the Specimen has some communication to 
make which he deems of importance. 

While you were aloft, and I crouched down 
at the foot of the tower, bless my soul, an 
Arab came along ! Saw him look up ; Shack 
was walking the tight rope, just then, as pret- 
ty a sight, by Jove, as ever I set eyes on ! ’’ 
^‘Continue, Camp — time flies, says Bob, 
whose interest has at once been arrested, as 
though he realizes that this incident must have 
a bearing on the final results of their project. 

“I heard him mutter something in his infer- 
nal jargon, and then he vralked off, says the 
Briton. 

‘‘Which way ? ’’ 

“Up the hiU.” 

“Exactly; he may have gone to arouse her 
uncle. Was he close to you, Felix ? ” 

“So close that I was tempted to knock the 
rascal on the head ! Fact ; I would have done 
so, had I possessed a good stout cudgel.’^ 

“IFs a pity.’’ 

“ Ridiculous fool-play on my part. Of course 
I ought to have stunned him, but, dear boy, I 
don’t possess the arm of steel you boast, and 
if I failed to knock him out in the first round 
his Arab yells would have aroused Bedlam.” 

“True, true; can’t be helped, Felix, old chap. 
Come, here’s the rope— up you go. We’ll hope 
for the best.” 


Monsieur Bob. 


245 


Bob endeavors to sp^ak ebeerily, although 
in his anxiety he feels as though a heavy weight 
were tied about his neck. When disasters ac- 
cumulate, this man^s nature, instead of bow- 
ing before the storm, will rise defiant to the 
last. He is not made of yielding timber. 

The Specimen waits for no second invitation, 
but proceeds to climb ; he is already part way 
up the face of the wall, as the coping of the 
latter serves to keep the ropedadder several 
inches away from the surface, and allows of 
the hands and feet taking a good hold. 

When he crawls over the top Bob begins to 
mount upward. Although much heavier than 
the little Briton, he is at the same time a won- 
derful athlete, and the manner in which he 
makes that ascent is simply superb. 

It is honest Shackelford’s hand that assists 
him over the top of the wall, and thus the 
three daring adventurers find themselves 
sprawling there with about half of their work 
accomplished. 

The captain is groping about the bushes, and, 
finding where the loops have caught, proceeds 
to prune the twigs with his knife, speedily re- 
leasing his wonderful rope ladder, which he 
gathers up in his hands. 

Meanwhile Bob and the Specimen have been 
using their eyes, hoping to discover the dog 
lying near by, for such ocular evidence would 


246 


Monsieur Bob. 


be positive proof that thej" need have no fear 
of being disturbed in this quarter; but their 
best efforts fail to materialize the victim of 
Campertown’s ingenious device. 

It is time to “get off the fence. Bob swings 
over and allows his feet to touch terra £rma, 
not knowing but what a dog’s teeth may meet 
in the calf of his leg the next instant; but fort- 
unately no such electrifying process takes 
place, and the other two adventurous pilgrims 
speedily join him. 

The wall is not so high inside ; about five or 
six feet in all, so that those within can enjoy 
the view of the harbor, with the changeful 
blue sea throbbing beyond. 

Now comes the tug of war. Under trees and 
beside rose bushes that grow riotously in this 
sunny clime where winter’s heavy breath nev- 
er comes the three prowlers make their way, 
heading in the direction of the grim building, 
glimpses of which they catch now and then. 

It is close by, and the moonlight glances 
along the walls, here painting them with alav- 
ish hand and anon allowing a dark shadow to 
mark the line of some projection. 

At the further end is a sort of tower, and 
here they can see the moon’s rays glinting 
from some polished metal ; it is an alarm bell 
that hangs there. Pray Heaven its wild 
clangor may not peal out upon the solemn air 


Monsieur Bob. 


247 


of this night ! That is the thought in Monsieur 
Bob’s mind when his eyes take in the belfry 
tower. 

Flitting along like grim specters, the three 
figures at length find themselves close to the 
Moorish house, which stands at the end of the 
garden. 

Bob’s eager eyes range along the wall and 
take in the second story, which could be called 
the third, because the ground, in sloping, raises 
it higher than on the other side. 

He counts the windows from the end. Ah ! 
the mar-ked embrasure lies in a shadow, for a 
projecting wall stands between it and the 
moon. This is a fact that pleases our friends 
when they discover it. If the moon were blot- 
ted out entirely just at this time, no one would 
hear any mourning from that quarter. True, 
the heavenly luminary has its uses, but they 
do not come to the surface during a romantic 
elopement ; darkness is the best friend of lovers, 
who thus defy the power of guardians and 
take their fate into their own hands. 

Having thus selected the aperture at which 
Nina and her maid are to appear, the little 
party move to get beneath it. 

As yet no sound that can be construed into a 
bark or a growl ; it really and truly begins to 
look as though the worthy Felix must have 
succeeded in giving the fierce hound a dose that 


248 


Monsieur Bob. 


has stiffened him out in some corner. The only 
thing Shackelford fears is that it may have 
been an overdose, which would act as an 
emetic. 

Even this doubting Thomas begins to have 
faith in Campertown’s scheme as the minutes 
pass by and no outburst of howls attests the 
presence of the canine foe in the flesh. 

Monsieur Bob drags out his watch; the 
moonlight falls directly upon it. 

“Just one minute of eleven, he whispers, 
hoarsely. 

“Surprisingly clever,” remarks milord, in a 
semi-tone, referring, doubtless, to the fact that 
they have hit the appointed time so remark- 
ably close. 

Bob gropes along the wall in the lines 
bounded by the shadow, while Shackelford un- 
packs his bundle and gets the wonderful little 
rope ladder in readiness for immediate use. 
The Specimen simply bends his head back and 
gazes with enthralled devotion at the faintly 
seen window above through which those they 
would rescue must come. 

Bob gropes in vain. 

They hear a great clock in a church strike 
the hour of eleven. Felix has discovered a 
movement above — he is sure one or more 
heads have appeared at the window, and, de- 
monstrative by nature, he steps back so that 


Monsieur Bob. 


249 


the full light of the moon falls upon his noble 
figure, assumes his favorite attitude, and then 
waves a snowy kerchief. He makes one of the 
greatest sacrifices of his life in preserving the 
peace, for it is on the tip of his tongue to give 
a genuine British cheer. 

Again Monsieur Bob gropes for the cord they 
are to lower, for he, too, has discovered the 
presence of heads above. This time he finds 
what he seeks, and quickly it is attached to 
the end of theropeladder — that end which has 
been arranged so that it can be tied to some 
object in the room above. 

Shackelford has arranged the steel cross bars, 
and he now gives a gentle tug at the cord. It 
is answered, and those above begin to haul in 
the slack. Thus the rope ladder starts to 
mount upward; it looks as though success 
might be almost within their grasp. 

Their nerves are strained to the utmost, and 
as the rope ladder reaches the window they 
seem hardly to breathe, such is their anxiety. 
Then comes a period of intense suspense, while 
those above are making the ladder secure. 

What is that? A whisper floats down along 
the wall to the listening ears below. 

“Monsieur Bob ! 

“Yes — what is it ? ’’he breathes back, thrilled 
by the mention of his name from that source. 


250 


Monsieur Bob. 


Again it comes, clear and distinct, yet like a 
faint zephyr stealing in from the sea. 

‘‘ It is secured ; test the ladder, my Bob ! 

He places his weight upon it; joy, it holds! 
It is secure for their descent. The fact is con- 
veyed to those above. Immediately a figure is 
dimly seen in the darkness; they hear a half 
suppressed little shriek, the ladder trembles, 
and in ten seconds Bob clasps a form in his 
arms. Confusion! It is Nanette! He turns 
her over to the eager Campertown, and again 
waits. 

The ladder once more vibrates — Nina comes. 
How oppressively still everything is. It seems 
as though in this dread minute of suspense 
Bob can hear his heart beat; the sound is like 
that of a bass drum. He sees the dark form 
above swing clear; it begins to descend. As 
though this act were in itself a signal the si- 
lence of the night hour is rudely broken, and 
suddenly there rings out the wild clangor of 
the alarm bell in the tower; loud voices are 
heard, coupled with the savage baying of a dog. 
Monsieur Bob hears and grits his teeth, for he 
knows that the cloak of secrecy may no longer 
hide them, but they must fight for their lives ! 


BOOK THREE. 


Destiny, Written on the Rocks 
of Vesuvius. 




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1 


CHAPTER I. 


SHACKELFORD AT BAY. 

This sudden change from silence to the wild 
pandemonium that marks the alarm is indeed 
startling, to say the least. Bob’s heart almost 
stands still, not with fright, for he is incapa- 
ble of feeling that, but overwhelmed by appre- 
hension concerning the safety of the one he 
loves so well. 

When the disturbance thus rudely breaks out 
upon the night air, Nina is perhaps half way 
down the rope ladder. This means that she is 
still some ten feet from the ground. 

Monsieur Bob becomes alarmed lest the 
racket which bursts upon her ears may cause 
the young girl to release her clutch upon the 
ropes. Perhaps persons who ought to be de- 
pended on better than Nina, would lose their 
presence of mind under such peculiar circum- 
stances. 

All he can do is to brace himself, with out- 
stretched arms, beneath, ready to catch her 
should she come, and thus break the fall. 

Above the fiendish clamor his voice is heard. 

353 


254 


Monsieur Bob. 


Continue to dcvscend, Nina, darling! I am 
here waiting for you ! Fear not — but come I ” 

She hears, and receives new courage, for at 
the outbreak of the affair she had hesitated 
whether to continue her downward flight. If 
Monsieur Bob awaits her there why need she 
fear? 

So she quickly leaves the balance of the route 
behind, and is suddenly clasped in his arms, 
while the captain seizes hold of the rope lad- 
der that has already served them so well. It 
is his intention to release it from the hold 
above, for he knows they must have further 
need of its services. In vain he pulls and tugs ; 
Shackelford is no weakling, but he fails to 
break the cords by means of which the girls 
have secured the ladder to some object in the 
room above. 

Campertown sees the dilemma, and springs 
to his assistance, throwing his whole weight 
upon the affair, but without accomplishing 
anything. All this has, of course, occurred in 
much less time than it takes to tell it; indeed, 
hardly half a minute has elapsed since the first 
alarm before the two men are thus tugging to 
gain possession of the rope ladder. 

'‘Oh! Bob, dear boy,” cries Campertown, 
pulling with might and main, like a little ter- 
rier that has his teeth fastened in the dress of 
a large woman. 


Monsieur Bob. 


255 


The man from Chicago hears a despairing 
cry; he wheels around, and is able to compre- 
I hend what they want of him. Taking one 
; step forward he seizes the rope ladder just 
; above his head. There is one tremendous ex- 
I ertion of his powerful frame, the knotted mus- 
I cles swell, the back and hips receive their due 
I proportion of the strain, and the thing is 
: done ! No ordinary rope could resist such a 
I fearful wrench, and the cords above snap. 
Down comes the rope ladder in a bunch, and 
Shackelford utters a fierce hurrah, as though 
in admiration of Bob^s powers. 

They must not linger here — it is death to re- 
main ! Already hoarse shouts can be heard in 
the garden, and it is evident that Osman Dig- 
na and his men have entered with the fierce in- 
tention of murdering any strangers whom 
they may find there. 

^^Come! says Bob, resolutely, “we must 
make haste and get away ! ” 

Shackelford has already secured the rope lad- 
der, so there is apparently nothing to keep 
them, unless they run across the men who are 
already wildly scouring the garden. Perhaps 
it may be unfortunate for these same men if 
such a collision takes place, for the three who 
have entered upon this game are well armed, 
and desperate enough to fight like demons. 

The party starts off. As each of the other 


256 


Monsieur Bob. 


two has a lady to look after, the soldier of fort- 
une gallantly ehooses the post of honor and 
brings up the rear. He knows when he does it 
that whatever danger is likely to descend upon 
them must come from this quarter, but that 
only serves to make the man more determined. 
Peril can not daunt the lion; a thousand foes 
will not make him turn tail and run. He 
pounces upon a part of the line, rends and 
tears, carr3dng terror in his track, and either 
puts his foes to flight or else meets his death 
right there. , 

So Shackelford guards the rear. He carries 
the rope ladder about his left arm while his 
right is free for business, and in that hand he 
clutches a revolver that has never yet failed 
him in the hour of need. 

Thus the little party press along, seeking the 
shadows when it is possible, and heading for 
the corner of the garden nearest the old tower. 
Of course it is impossible for them to remain 
long hidden from the keen e3^es of hate that 
scour every foot of the garden soil searching 
for them. Discovery is bound to come. Every 
one of the three men naturally have their 
nerves strained to the utmost tension. Indeed, 
such a fearful clamor must start the blood like 
hot lava in the veins of the coolest of men. 

They have covered about half the distance 
between the house and the garden wall when 


Monsieur Bob. 


257 


the captain realizes that they are discovered. 
The change in the tone of the yells declares 
this; they have assumed a more vindictive 
character, and from various quarters dusky 
figures can be seen rushing forward. 

Shackelford knows that even a man of Os- 
man Digna’s prominence would not keep such 
a retinue of servants, and the suspicion flashes 
across his mind that these parties must be 
some of the fierce bandits from the desert, serv- 
ing under the banner of Musta-el-Gaber. It is 
reasonable enough, 'since his suspicions must 
have been aroused in this quarter. Perhaps 
the man who saw Shaekelford eross from the 
old tower on the slanting rope ladder was one 
of these scouts. 

It matters not just now; the men are on 
deck, and they demonstrate the fact that our 
three friends must look on them as deadly foes. 
Their actions prove this much. 

Shackelford sees more than this. Something 
rushes along in the van; it is a dog of more 
than ordinary proportions. Undoubtedly" the 
dose given by Felix was too large, as some- 
times happens in such cases, and sickened the 
brute, so that, retiring to some corner, he had 
relieved himself of it and lain down to recuper- 
ate, until the first stroke of the mad alarm bell 
brought him up. At any rate the brute now 
rushes toward the fugitives with a rapidity 


258 


Monsieur Bob. 


that proves he has not been entirely denuded 
of his strength by what he has passed through. 

Knowing that this monster is undoubtedly 
the first upon which he will have to test the 
efficacy of cold lead, Aleck prepares to receive 
boarders. His thumb draws back the hammer, 
his finger touches the trigger, and his quick eye 
notes the progress whicli the hound makes. 

Obstacles fail to stay the on-rushing brute, 
whose fierce instincts are all aroused by this 
daring invasion of his domain. He rushes for- 
ward to close with the enemy ; perhaps he as- 
sociates them with the pain he has lately en- 
dured, and has a wild desire for revenge. 

There is now no further time for retreat, since 
the hound has cleared the space separating him 
from the fugitives. He rushes open mouthed 
upon the one figure that lingers in the rear — 
lingers in the very hope of just this thing. 

Shackelford has swung around to face his 
brute foe, and one of his arms is extended as 
though he points toward the hound. The 
moonlight gleams from polished steel, and 
what he clasps in his hand he points toward 
the yelping brute ; not a quiver is there in that 
steady aim, but certain as death itself he pre- 
sents his trusty revolver at the dog. 

Now the animal is not five feet away; he 
seems to anticipate an easy victory ; perhaps 
his fierce rush has frightened this figure so that 


Monsieur Bob. 


259 


the man is incapable of action. That would 
be a vain delusion on the part of anyone. 

One more jump and there must be a contact 
between man and beast, when the shining teeth 
of the latter may get in their work ; but that 
last leap is never made a success. 

Above the hoarse shouts of the hungry" pack 
of human hunters — above the mad clatter of 
the alarm bell, still beating its brazen-throated 
music upon the soft night air, sounds the sharp 
report of Shackelford’s revolver. 

Its tenor can not be mistaken, and if any- 
thing more is needed to prove the result of this 
solitary shot it comes in the death howl of the 
stricken dog, as the brute pitches forward and 
huddles in a heap at the feet of the man whose 
leaden messenger has brought the summons of 
doom. 

The mad rush does not cease, for what is the 
death of a dog to these fierce men ? True, the 
same weapon may presently be turned against 
them, but they have neither the time nor in- 
clination to stop now in order to figure it out. 

As the game is in full sight of the pack of 
hounds, they generally break into frantic yelps. 
So with these hunters. Their eagerness is 
doubled, and they bear down upon the devot- 
ed little party like hawks swooping upon a 
dovecote. 

Our friends have meanwhile had a chance to • 


260 


Monsieur Bob. 


draw near the comer where their hopes lie. 
Could they be given a few minutes of time the 
rope ladder might be arranged and all of them 
effect an escape over the barrier. 

Captain Aleck knows that it is now utterly 
impossible for this to happen unless some un- 
looked for miracle comes to pass. 

He realizes that a meeting between the hos- 
tile forces is a certainty, and therefore steadies 
himself to meet the furious onslaught. Does 
he mean to stand the brunt of the attack 
alone? The Specimen feels something thrust 
into his hands. 

Take the ladder and arrange it, Camp!^’ 
shouts a voice in his ear. 

Then Campertown knows what his share of 
the work is to be; he buckles down to it with 
a determination that success must come. 

Shackelford hovers in the rear. The shad- 
owy figures of their pursuers are closing in and 
forming something of a phalanx ; this force is 
about to be hurled upon them with tremen- 
dous power, as if under the orders of a great 
leader. 

He grasps the situation as a military man 
alone can do ; strategic actions are a part of 
his education, and with the eye of a Sheridan 
this soldier of fortune knows where he must 
get his work in if he wants to create a panic, 


Monsieur Bob. 


261 


which is about the only thing that will save 
them. 

He can see weapons flashing in the hands of 
men — ^the terrible yataghan of the Arab is 
there, eager to drink the blood of infidel dogs. 
They have planned this elopement under its 
shadow, and for one, Aleck Shackelford does 
not fear. 

When his eagle eye has selected the spot 
where he should begin operations he starts fir- 
ing. His intention is to wound more than to 
kill, and consequently he aims low, well know- 
ing that these loud-shouting men are far from 
heroes, and that a bullet in the leg will very 
probably place any one of them out of the 
fight. 

The rapid detonation of the revolver and 
the change from yells to shrieks on the part of 
a number of the attacking force, cause the lit- 
tle affair to assume the proportions of a mim- 
ic battle. Shackelford has been in many a des- 
perate situation during that checkered career 
of his, but it is doubtful whether he has ever 
been caught in a worse trap than this. Only 
by pure luck or the especial favor of Providence 
can they hope to escape. 

Perhaps Aleck might, alone and unaided, 
have hurled the enemy back, had their num- 
bers been less, or their leader lacking in dare- 
devil courage. Musta-el-Gaber is here, and 


262 


Monsieur Bob. 


such a scene is to him high carnival ; he rejoices 
in the roar of battle — in the flash of mur- 
derous yataghan as it cleaves human heads, 
or the sharp report of gun fire. To him it is 
mad music, urging him on to reckless deeds. 

His inspiring shouts urge on the others ; they 
dare not fall back while this man leads. Be- 
sides, there is apparently but one enemy op- 
posed to them — a man who stands there as 
coolly as a monument of ice, and, with blaz- 
ing revolver in one hand and naked knife in the 
other, resolutely awaits their advance. 

Surely they can overwhelm him, by the mere 
weight of numbers if nothing else. Besides, 
his revolver must be nearly exhausted by this 
time, when they will be placed upon a more 
even footing with their enemy. 

This serves to keep the squad intact, save 
for the few who have dropped out to nurse 
their wounds, and hobble about in the delirium 
of pain. As the last shot belches from the 
soldier^s weapon, there is heard an avalanche 
of yells, and the whole party of Arabs, with 
waving fists and yataghans rush forward and 
surround the indomitable man. 


CHAPTER II. 


THE DESERT TIGER HAS HIS CLAWS CUT. 

These events have taken place so rapidly that 
the others have just reached the wall when the 
desperate rush is made. Monsieur Bob knows 
what that means, and his nature will not let 
him keep back from the fray longer. Shackel- 
ford must not sacrifice himself in order to save 
his friends. 

‘‘Get the ladies over the wall, Camp, in all 
haste, he shouts to his companion. 

“And you? asks the little Briton, as he sees 
the American about to turn back. 

“My place is with him/^ comes the answer. 

Bob has pressed a hasty kiss upon the cheek 
of Nina, and is gone from their view, flashing 
through a patch of moonlight as though gift- 
ed with the winged feet of the god Mercury. 

Shackelford has met the combined attack of 
his foes with a sublime courage that does not 
flinch before overwhelming numbers. He may 
meet his fate then and there, but if it comes he 
will receive it in the same brave manner that 
marks his everv move. 

263 


^64 


Monsieur Bob. 


The very first man who ru^es at him has a 
white skin; perhaps he may be the Italian 
count whom Nanette fears, the lover of Mar- 
hara, the Arab beauty. Shackelford never 
stops for an introduction, but hurls his empty 
and now useless revolver with tremendous 
force directly in the fellow^s face. He stretches 
out his arms wildh^ staggers and falls. Aleck 
does not know at the time whether he is merely 
stunned or killed by the crashing blow, but 
later on he has cause to wish his arm had been 
twice as powerful when the weapon left it. 

Now the Arabs are around him like a pack of 
mongrel curs; the sight might remind some 
old sportsman of a bear at bay, with the dogs 
assailing it on every side; they strike at the 
soldier, they pull at him, and endeavor to Hose, 
but this his ready arms keep them from doing. 

It is a strange spectacle, and a desperate one, 
too, for if once these dark-skinned men succeed 
in grasping his arms little chance remains for 
Aleck to ward off the fatal keen-edged yata~ 
ghan that hovers near, eager to decapitate 
him. 

One man can hardly baffle a dozen, no mat- 
ter how stout his heart may be, and in a very 
brief space of time the Arabs have crowded so 
close around the stalwart soldier that he is 
unable to longer keep them at bay. It looks 
as though doom must be upon him. 


Monsieur Bob. 


265 


At this moment, above the roar of jabbering 
tongues, comes a voice that sounds like music 
to the ears of the beleaguered Aleck. 

‘‘Keep it up, old man! Do n’t let them down 
you yet 1 One more gallant break and we have 
the game 1 Hold out, my boy, for I’m coming 
like a Texas tornado I ” 

With the last word there bursts into view a 
flying figure, advancing with huge bounds that 
carry him over the ground at an astonishing 
rate. 

This is Monsieur Bob. 

It is good for sore eyes to see him thus rush- 
ing to the fray with all the eagerness of a bride- 
groom advancing to meet his bride. Space is 
annihilated under his feet. 

When he strikes the mass of Arabs clustered 
about the defiant Shackelford it is like the con- 
I cussion that follows the mad plunge of toro 
dashing among the cowardly chulos who 
gather with their darts and red flags in the 
ring to exasperate and play with the bull. 

Right and left they fly. Monsieur Bob’s ter- 
rible arm now doubles one man up ten feet 
away, under the impression that the heels of a 
mule are somehow connected with his down- 
fall, while another is sent spinning madly 
around in a dizzy waltz that would make a 
dancing dervish green with jealousy, until 
some tree offers a chance of collision, and he 


266 


Monsieur Bob. 


sits down to reflect npon the magnitude of the 
heavens and the brilliancy of the stars he has 
seen. 

Bone and sinew Monsieur Bob throws into 
the game ; he is fighting for the life of his friend 
now ; he is battling also for Nina and all his i 
future hopes of happiness in her society. 

Could a man, a brave man, have more of an 
incentive to push him forward? 

Nor is Shackelford idle during this display of | 
courage and strength on the part of his friend, 
though he has about all he can do to keep that 
yataghan from cleaving him. Twice has he 
caught vicious blows meant for his head upon 
his trusty knife blade, but thi's can not always 
be depended on. 

He knows something must be done to pre- 
vent this man from making a third and prob- 
ably successful attempt. Therefore, hardly has 
he warded off the half-sword for the second 
time than he himself becomes the assailant, and 
rushing forward, closes with his would-be 
assassin. At close quarters the knife is better 
than they'atag'/zan, and when the Arab receives ! 
a puncture in the arm he drops his weapon and 
struggles to break away from the soldier’s 
hold. 

Shackelford is only too willing to let the ter- 
rified man go, and with a quick swoop pos- 
sesses himself of the Arab’s fallen weapon. 


Monsieur Bor. 267 

With something that will answer the purpose 
of a sword in his hand the soldier is in high 
clover — he feels more like himself again. 

Monsieur Bob’s iron arm has made sad havoc 
with the fellows who get in its way ; his fist is 
I like a sledge hammer that trips each unlucky 
devil up and lands him dazed and out of the 
fight several yards away. 

I When the two unite in a last grand rally the 
remainder of the pack turn to fly, terror hav- 
ing come upon them at sight of the astonishing 
achievements of this wonderful unbeliever. 

All but one man, who stands there firm as 
the rocks of the snow-capped Djara Djura, in 
the Atlas mountains. 

It is Musta-el-Gaber, the scourge of the des- 
ert, who thus scorns to fly. As Monsieur Bob 
rushes up to him he laughs aloud, makes some 
mocking remark, and presents a pistol at the 
breast of the advancing Chicagoan, but the 
weapon scorns to take the life of a brave man; 
the hammer falls without a report following. 
With an awful curse el-Gaber raises his arm to 
hurl the weapon at his foe, but Bob has rushed 
in ; his terrible right swings forward with the 
force of a young cyclone, beating down the 
guard offered by the upraised arm of the Arab, 
and smiting the other upon the head with 
a stunning force that sends him reeling back. 

Now is the time for escape. The^^ must not 


268 


MoNstEtjR Bob. 


wait until the demoralized forces of their foes 
come together again. Both of the men under- 
stand the situation exactly. They do not turn 
their backs while there are any enemies to en- 
counter, but, having cleared the field, they be- 
lieve the time to make a judicious retreat has 
come. 

Even Napoleon made retreats, some of them, 
like that from Russia, very disastrous ones. 
So other brave generals have met with occa- 
sions when it was expedient to retire, and a 
skillfully conducted retreat. General McClellan 
used to say, is as worthy- of praise as a battle 
won. 

Bob and his companion rush toward the cor- 
ner of the garden wall. Although such a short 
time has elapsed since leaving Campertown 
with -the ladies. Bob has high hopes of the little 
fellow having accomplished something in the 
way of getting Nina and her maid down the 
rope ladder. 

Nor is he mistaken. 

The Specimen can be intrusted with impor- 
tant duties without becoming demoralized. 
Some men, upon having sudden emergencies 
appear and desperate measures thrust into 
their hands, run about like roosters with their 
heads cut off. 

When Monsieur Bob leaves him, with the in- 
junction to save the ladies while he goes to the 


Monsieur Bob. 


269 


assistance of Shackelford, Felix deliberately 
takes hold of the rope ladder and fastens one 
end of it to a limb of a tree standing by the 
wall. This he is enabled to do by means of the 
I broken strands which Bob's muscles snapped. 

I Having accomplished this much to his satis- 
faction he tosses the ladder over and arranges 
it in the proper way. All is ready, and Camp- 
ertown turns to the ladies, who stand there 
trembling, listening to the awful sounds of the 
mad battle raging not twenty yards away. 

Come, one must go down," he says, with 
more authority in his voice than anyone would 
! dream he could show. 

“Nanette, you go," says Nina. 

“You first, dear mistress." 

“No, no; not while he is there in danger! 

I I could not leave him I Descend — ^it is my 
wish I " There is no disputing this order, and 
Nanette proceeds to do as she is told. A 
thought has come to Campertown, and he 
looks over the wall. It is a wise action, in- 
deed ; the moon shows him a shadowy figure 
creeping over from the ruined tower; some en- 
emy who would receive the first one down the 
ladder. 

This raises the little man's spirit at once, and 
without hesitation he jerks out the revolver he 
has provided himself with, and begins popping 
away. At the first shot the dark figure leaps 


270 


Monsieur Bob. 


ihree feet into the air, and when the second 
follows he dashes at full speed down the rough 
roadway, as though the Old Nick were after 
him. 

Hide this in your bosom, Nanette. Use it 
if the occasion arises, and fear not — your own 
Felix is here close by. Now descend ! 

She hears and obeys; it is worth a good deal 
to have implicit faith in one man, even though 
his body is below the normal in point of size. 
Eagerly Campertown watches her descent, and 
heaves a huge sigh of relief when he finds that 
she has safely reached the ground. At least 
his anxiety in that quarter is over. 

‘ ‘ Now, Mademoiselle, ’ ’ he says, touching Nina 
on the arm, “it is your turn.^’ 

“Wait;” she breathes, without looking at 
him, her bosom heaving with tremendous emo- 
tion, “the battle rages no longer; either they i 
are victorious, or else — mon Dieu ! What if 
he is slain — my brave Bob ! ” 

“Some one comes!” cries Campertown, 
pointing beyond the bushes, where dark figures 
are seen rushing toward them ; the little fel- 
low knows not whether they be foes or not, 
and advances his revolver in that direction, 
but his arm is clutched by Nina’s eager hand. 

“You must not fire!” she cries; “see, it is 
Bob and the captain! They are alive! Heaven 


Monsieur Bob. 


271 


lias been kind ; they are unhurt ! In another 
moment they will be here! ” 

Her ^‘moment” is hardly three seconds, for 
the men come hurrying up, breathing hard, yet 
showing no signs of being wounded. Bob is 
instantly at her side. 

'‘Why are you here, Nina, darling?” he asks. 
"I thought you would be safe below by this 
time.” 

“ I knew you were in danger. I could not 
take my freedom at the expense of your life,” 
she makes reply. 

Bob’s heart glows within him, but well he 
knows this is no time for love passages. First 
they must escape from this hornet’s nest. 

"Delay no longer, I beg. Camp, slip down 
ahead, will you please ? ” 

Felix is only too willing to obey, and goes 
down the rope ladder with the dexterity of a 
squirrel. Then comes Nina’s turn. She does 
not hesitate, but is assisted to the top of the 
wall and quickly vanishes below. 

"Now, Aleck!” 

" I am last, my dear fellow ! ” 

There is on time to argue about these mat- 
ters now; Bob flits over the wall like a will-o’- 
the-wisp, and descends the ropes in a manner 
that would have brought him praise from any 
sailor who could have seen him. 

Nor is Shackelford backward about follow- 


272 


Monsieur Bob. 


ing. He knows Musta-el-Gaber is bringinghis 
demoralized forces together again, for he can 
hear his lusty shouts; they will bear down 
upon this same corner in another minute, and, 
armed only with the yataghan, he would not 
present a very stubborn resistance to their on- 
slaught. 

Besides, he is quite anxious to be away. The 
pleasant future, at sea on Bob’s dandy yacht, 
holds out an alluring prospect, and there is no 
reason why he should not live to make it three 
of a kind. 

So he also clambers down the face of the 
wall by means of the rope ladder, holding on 
to his captured weapon, as he does not mean 
to lose all evidence of his little engagement 
above. 

All are now united. 

The race for the boat begins. Bob and Felix 
have their hands full assisting the ladies, while 
Shackelford, as usual, brings up the rear. 

As before, the moon is treacherous, and be- 
trays them to those who hunt. With utter 
darkness about the spot their chances of get- 
ting away would be greatly improved. 

Dark forms begin to come down over the 
wall by means of the wonderful rope ladder; 
forms as supple as monkeys and as full of fury 
as the gorilla of Stanley’s Darkest Africa. 


Monsieur Bob. 


273 


These, of course, are Musta-el-Gaber and his 
men, bent still upon revenge. 

Hurrying along as fast as they can, our 
friends head for the water. It is some little 
distance away, the more the pity, and all the 
while they must be followed by this squad of 
dark pursuers, now pushing close to them, 
anon falling back as our friends whirl around 
and send a warning shot, yet all the while 
threatening. 

Monsieur Bob does not know yet whether 
they have won or not; the chances seem about 
evenly divided. If the dark pursuers have the 
courage to make a last desperate rush they 
may play the mischief with the gallant trio. 

Every step takes them nearer the boat, and 
Bob’s heart grows lighter. He even bends 
down and whispers in the ear of Nina : 

Saved — as by fire, darling! ” 

Are his words premature ? With a chorus of 
shouts the Arabs, who have been brought up 
to the scratch again by the sight of the blue 
water dancing in the moonlight, make a sud- 
den rush. They have let it go too long, for 
even as they close with the three adventurers 
Monsieur Bob’s voiee roars out: 

‘‘To the rescue, John Burrows, to the res- 
cue!” 

Two giant forms spring into view, and with 

hearty eheers the English sailors proeeed to do 
18 


274 


Monsieur Bob. 


the Arab contingent np. This flank movement 
is utterly unexpected, and the followers of 
Musta-el-Gaber melt away visibly. 

It has hardly begun, to tell the truth, before 
it is all over; a few unfortunates lie on the 
sand where they have been struck down and 
the rest have gone in every direction. 

“Where’s the boat? ” cries Bob, almost fran- 
tic with the great joy that comes over him. 

“Right here, sir,” returns Burrows. 

They help the ladies in and immediately fol- 
low, not knowing what spirit of deviltry may 
come over the malignant Arab chieftain when 
he finds his prey has escaped him. 

The sailor men pull with a will. 

All Algiers is left behind. Their feet have 
touched African soil perhaps for the last time. 
They leave Mohammedism and bigoted 
darkness, and glide out upon the moonlit wa- 
ters that seem like a silver path-way leading 
to paradise. Looking shoreward Monsieur 
Bob sees one of the figures slowly rise to his 
feet ; he can even discern the upraised arm as 
the voice of the Italian, Count Morisini, full 
of venom, rings after them : 

“You have won this time. Monsieur Bob. 
It is not the last meeting we shall have. Re- 
venge may be all the sweeter for the delay. 
Yon hear my oath: Standing here, bathed in 
my own blood, I, Ricocco Morisini, swear to 


Monsieur Bob. 


275 


follow you to the end of the earth, and to bring 
upon you the most terrible revenge, that is 
worse than death ! 

His ravings die away as they glide over the 
silver sea, their hearts beating high with hope 
and joy. The future seems as bright as the 
gentle waves around them, and in that time 
of peace after storm there is no reason why 
they should remember the Italian's words with 
uneasiness ; yet in dreams they find Monsieur 
Bob, to bring distress to his mind as he stud- 
ies the meaning of that terrible threat. 


CHAPTER III. 


AFLOAT ON THE BLUE SEA. 

Before them they see the dandy little yacht 
with her sails set, all ready for the voyage. 
Burrows has made no mistake about heading 
in the proper quarter. Soon all are on board, 
and the voice of the captain is heard, giving 
orders ; the anchor comes up from its hiding 
place in the mud, and presently away they go 
with a fair breeze over their starboard quar- 
ter. What music can equal the gurgle of the 
water as the stem of a jaunty little yacht 
plows the sea ? It is the sweetest sound on 
earth to the man who loves the water. 

They fear no pursuit, and even though their 
enemies should follow in felucca or bag'gala, 
what ha,ve they to dread ? Will not the staunch 
little Skip-jack sail three feet to their two ? 

So all hearts are light; the moon shines as 
it never did before, they think, as, standing on 
deck in a little group, they see the headlands 
fading from view, and even the various vessels 
lying in the harbor becoming dim in that mys- 
terious, hazy light. 


Monsieur Bob, 


277 


Monsieur Bob dives into the cabin, and in a 
few minutes comes on deck again. He is not 
alone. Abdul Medshid and his lovely daughter 
accompany him. 

As all speak French more or less, conversa- 
tion can be carried on in that way, though 
both the merchant and his daughter talk En- 
glish also. 

Thus they pass an hour or more upon deck 
in a merry way. By this time they are long 
out of sight of land, and around them heaves 
the wide expanse of the silvery sea. 

Bob has arranged matters so that Nina and 
her maid have one of the cabins, or state- 
rooms, as they really are. Zella occupies a 
second, while Abdul Medshid takes the last. 
The Honorable Felix has his choice of bunking 
with the merchant, but prefers sleeping on a 
divan in the cabin. 

As for Captain Shackelford, he is a soldier, 
and used to accepting whatever the fates send 
him. He goes with Bob, no matter what 
comes upon that worthy. A sailor’s hammock 
is good enough for a man of his size, nor will 
it be the first time he has slept in such an af- 
fair. A man who has roughed it all through 
Mexico and South America, not to speak of 
occupying a bungalow in India for nearly a 
year, must have spent scores of nights in a 


278 


Monsieur Bob. 


hammock, because of its coolness and freedom 
from reptiles’ visits. 

The yacht is not the small affair one would 
think from hearing Bob’s talk. Shackelford is 
amazed at the stowage room aboard. They 
have an awning raised on deck, under which 
the three hammocks are slung which our trio 
of adventurous friends mean to occupy. 

Monsieur Bob is a busy man, since he has to 
see about all these things himself. Even now 
he is far from done ; the most desperate busi- 
ness of all remains. 

Captain Paxton is forward looking after 
some business, and the three gentlemen are 
seated under the canopy as though to finish 
their cigars before retiring, but in reality to 
converse and arrange their plan of action. 

Shackelford is astride of a camp chair, his 
elbows resting on the back, a favorite attitude 
of this high roller when at his ease. The Speci- 
men has run out of tobacco for cigarettes, and, 
much against his will, has been compelled to 
accept of a cigar, which he handles as though 
it weighs a ton, and smokes very gingerly. He 
is disconsolate over his lack of forethought, 
and with horror in his voice bewails the fact 
that it may come to such a pass that he shall 
have to suck meagre consolation out of a pipe, 
if so be there are any aboard. It does not 
dawn upon him yet that with pipes there must 


Monsieur Bob. 


279 


be tobacco, which can be rolled into cigarettes ; 
that ]oy will came later. 

They talk, these three men who have already 
seen many adventures together, of the peril 
that now hangs over them. Paxton has been 
suave and polite, but Shackelford knows his 
kind, and has analyzed his peculiar glances. 

^‘There’s deep deviltry in him,’^ he affirms; 

I can read the critter like a book. He was 
put out at seeing the number of friends you 
brought aboard, but I reckon he’s made up his 
mind what to do with us all after capturing 
you. Bob.” 

‘‘What’s that, Aleck?” queries Monsieur 
Bob. 

“Set us adrift in one of the boats! The 
weather is fair, we could reach shore some- 
where, and no doubt the walking is good,” re- 
plies the captain in the coolest way imagina- 
ble, knocking the ashes from his cigar. 

“ Confusion take him! That gives me an 
idea! ” says Bob, suddenly. 

“Let’s have it before you lose your grip.” 

“We can get rid of the rascals in the same 
way; I’ll call it cheap to give a boat away ! ” 

“ Won’t you be short handed in case we run 
across foul w^eather ? ” 

“Not at all; I have more help now than I 
really need. Besides, I shall send only a few of 


280 


Monsieur Bob. 


the worst men with Paxton, and in case of act- 
ual necessity we could take their places/^ 

The veteran wags his head. 

‘‘Just so. I’m not a sailor by trade, but I 
reckon I could do some good. As for Felix — ” 

“By Jove! I’m an old cruiser, dash my tar- 
ry wig, and don’t you forget it, my hearties! 
I’ve been to Cape Town on board Lord Went- 
worth’s yacht, pulled braces, steered, made a 
nuisance of myself generally. Yes, I’m a Jack 
Tar. Count on me in any emergency,” drawls 
the little man, soberly. 

Bob and Shackelford exchange glances, and 
then look out over the shining sea to avoid 
laughing. Really, the idea of the Specimen 
tugging at ropes, furling or reefing sails, and 
slushing around generally aboard a yacht — 
he, the dandy, whose shirt fronts are always 
immaculate, whose cuffs are ornamented with 
dainty buttons, and whose hands look as soft 
as a lady’s — the idea is absurd I But then the 
other has already developed strange traits, 
such as they did not dream he possessed, and 
he might spring a new surprise on them at any 
moment. 

“What do you purpose doing, Bob?” asks 
the veteran, glancing forward and still talking 
in the low tone that has marked their con- 
versation. 

The man at the wheel is not far away, but 


Monsieur Bob. 


281 


they have nothing to fear from this quarter. 
It is honest John Burrows who steers. He 
seems to pay no attention to the gentlemen, 
and yet he must hear nearly every word. 

“Before I go to extreme measures I must 
make sure that what we have heard is true.^^ 

“How will you do that, Bob ? continues 
Aleck. 

“Well, if this desperate idea is to be carried 
out that man must be aboard. 

“Ah! yes, Achmed, the sorcerer.’^ 

“The question is, shall we find him here? ’’ 

“In the black hole below, sir,^^ comes in a 
whisper from the man at the wheel. 

“Sure of it, John?^^ 

“He was aboard at sunset, sir.” 

“ Well, I shall make sure of that first. Then 
we will arrange the other business.” 

Bob throws his cigar away and goes below. 
Perhaps twenty minutes elapse before he again 
makes his appearance. Paxton is still busily 
engaged up in the bow ; it looks as though he 
does not want to come near the gentlemen. 

“Well ? ” breathes Campertown, as the mas- 
ter of the dandy yacht drops upon a stool. 

Monsieur Bob bends forward, and his voice 
is peculiarly metallic as he says : 

“He’s there, gentlemen, as sure as fate.” 

“You didn’t see him. Bob ? ” asks Felix. 

“No, but I heard him. I knew of a way to 


282 


Monsieur Bob. 


approach the black hole carefully, and lying in 
wait I used my ears. At first I could hear only 
the ripple of water along the sides of the boat. 
I waited. At length there was a shuffling 
sound, and then I distinctly heard an Arab 
oath. That settled the business with me; I 
knew Achmed was there, and growing stiff in 
his confinement.^’ 

‘‘Then you can arrange your plan? ” 

“That is easily done now. Listen. I will 
take Burrows’ place at the wheel while he goes 
forward and gives our trusty friends warning 
to be ready. When they hear me give a signal 
they are to rush on deck and secure the hostile 
sailors. That signal will be ‘Rule Britannia. ’ ” 

“Good! And depend on us to back you up,” 
says Shackelford. 

He continues to smoke his cigar as noncha- 
lantly as you please; sueh little affairs do not 
exeite him to any great degree. Camp has 
tossed his weed overboard, only too glad of an 
excuse for disposing of it. He stealthily exam- 
ines a revolver he has seeured from Bob’s cabin, 
to make certain that the mutineer captain has 
not been meddling with its contents. 

Monsieur Bob meanwhile relieves Burrows 
at the wheel and sends the man forward. If 
the captain asks him what he is after he is to 
have a reasonable exeuse ready. 

By this time it is one o’clock in the morning. 


Monsieur Bob. 


283 


The yacht is dancing along over the sea at a 
good pace, and looks like a thing of life as she 
leaves a foamy wake behind. Almost over- 
head the moon beams down upon them, show- 
ering her dreamy light on the scene, but be- 
yond a certain distance they cannot depend 
with certainty on their eyesight, for fair Luna’s 
illumination is very deceptive. 

I Just as Bob has foreseen, Paxton, suspicious 
I because his conscience troubles him, stops the 
English sailor to put a question ; but Burrows 
has a ready answer that sounds natural 
enough, and proceeds to the quarters of the men. 

The little affair grows decidedly interesting, 
and Shackelford really believes he will enjoy it 
I yet. Perhaps he allows his thoughts to roam 
in another quarter, for it is a fact that when 
once these old bachelors with the ironclad 
hearts do fall in love, they plunge headlong in- 
to the breach, and with their fervor outdo 
even the hotspurs of a more tender age. Zella, 
dressed in the costume of a French lady, has 
appeared before him as a most bewildering 
beauty ; he no longer makes any attempt to 
struggle against his doom, but readily yields 
himself a captive to her charms. Like the 
; Turk, he philosophicall3" consoles himself with 
the old phrase, “Kismet ! It is fate ! ” 

Some one approaches ; it is Burrows who 


1 

284 > Monsieur Bob. 

advances, having come from the forecastle. 
Bob asks him one question : 

How are matters forward, John ? ” 

‘‘Every man is armed and on the alert. I’ve 
drilled them, sir; they know who their ene- 
mies are, as you will see. When you shout 
the signal every Briton comes on deck deter- 
mined to save the yacht or shed his own I 
blood 

Such words are cheering, and Monsieur Bob, > 
as he relinquishes the wheel, knows he need 
have little fear as to the result. • 

Now comes the crucial test — the traitors i 
must be secured. Whether this can be done 
without bloodshed remains to be seen, but Bob 
Crane is determined to have control of his I 
own boat, no matter at what cost. 

Without any nervous hesitation he walks 
forward. Shackelford arises and stretches his i 
long form with a yawn. i 

“Come, Camp, we’re in for it. The curtain 
rises on Act Two; scene laid upon the blue 
Mediterranean; mutineer captain at bay ; live- 
ly little tussle, perhaps, and some popping of pis- 
tols, etc. Let’s scroll forward, so as to be 
near Bob. I wouldn’t miss being in this affair 
for a commission of general in the army of the 
Persian Shah ! ” 

Any one who knows Aleck Shackelford can 
truthfully vouch for this. His soul flourishes 


Monsieur Bob. 


285 


I in the roar of battle, and languishes in the 
[ piping times of peace. It is worth something 
to see a man of his nature meet a new and 
desperate dilemma. No matter how serious 
the problem, he goes out to face it with all the ea- 
! gernessthat marks the prancing of a war-horse 
when the smoke and roar of -battle drift that 
way. A strange man is Captain Aleck, and 
, yet by nature he is not cruel. Something in 
his composition makes him love excitement; he 
is a born soldier, that is all. 

As Monsieur Bob walks quickly forward, 
the captain catches the sound of his footsteps 
on the deck. He turns his head and discovers 
; who comes. Does something within warn 
him that danger hovers near? Perhaps there 
is that in the manner of Bob^s advance to 
strike alarm to his heart. The guilty must 
ever be cowards ; the lashing of conscience 
! makes them so, and Captain Paxton has sold 
himself to Satan for a price. 

He rises to his feet. 

Two sailors are near him ; Bob notices that 
both of them belong to the gang that the cap- 
tain depends on ; he would not hesitate in his 
movement were the whole of them gathered 
around Paxton. 

Now he comes to a stop directly in front cf 
the captain; so close is he that should he de- 


286 


Monsieur Bob. 


sire he can put out his hand and clap the other 
upon the shoulder. 

“ Captain, how far are we from land ? is the 
strange question he asks. 

^ ‘ Something like ten miles, sir ; if it was morn- 
ing you could make out the Algerian mount- 
ains lying over yonder,” replies Paxton, point- 
ing almost dead astern. 

“There is not enough sea to swamp our 
largest boat, is there. Captain? ” pursues Bob. 

“Why — no — sir!” stammers Paxton, who 
turns pale in the moonlight, then flushes. 

“And sailor men could make their way to 
the shore by morning if no storm arose, could 
they not? ” 

“It is — possible, Mr. Crane,” replies the 
other, with quaking knees ; his wretched heart 
no doubt stands still in an agony of fear. 

“I am glad to hear it— for your sake, Pax- 
ton,” says Bob, coolly. 

“Sir?” 

‘‘You will have a chance to set foot on Afri- 
can soil again very soon. Some of your boon 
companions will accompany you if the boat 
can hold them.” 

“Confusion! I — ” 

“Keep cool, my man. Your devilish plot is 
known to me. Some men would hang every 
mother’s son of you from the yard-arm, but I 


Monsieur Bob. 


287 


am disposed to be merciful; I shall just put you 
adrift and leave 3^ou to your fate.” 

”It’s all a mistake, sir — ” 

If you mean letting you go, perhaps it is. 
Don’t attempt to lie out of it, man. You only 
dig deeper your grave.” 

“Do you think I’ll go quietly overboard — ” 

“Quietly or not, I know a man of your size 
will go, all the same.” 

Paxton by this time has in a measure recov- 
ered his presence of mind. He sees that all is 
lost unless he can suddenly overpower the 
owner of the j^acht and his allies. Hence he 
gives a sudden signal that will bring every 
man of his on deck, eager as tigers in the jun- 
: gle to fight. 

Almost immediately men come rushing on 
deck; where erstwhile all was quiet and al- 
most deserted now fairly swarms with the 
blue-shir ted seamen. 

Stranger still, every other man seems to rec- 
ognize his selected enemy at sight, and springs 
: upon him instantly. Thus there are numerous 
I wrestling matches seen, and human forms go 
I whirling about along the deck as though in- 
: dulging in a mad waltz. 

Monsieur Bob has instantly followed the 
signal of Paxton with the cry of “Rule Britan- 
nia,” and his bulldogs these are who come 


288 


Monsieur Bob. 


tumbling up from below with the others and 
fasten upon the mutineers so eagerly. 

Nor has Bob neglected the chief conspirator ; 
he sees Paxton in the act of drawing a revol- 
ver, and, under the impulse of the moment, lets 
his terrible right straight out from the shoul- 
der. The captain goes down like an ox in the 
shambles, and he can thank his lucky stars if 
his head is not broken by the tremendous 
thump it receives when coming in contact with 
the deck. 

The two sailors near by have sprung to the 
assistance of Paxton. A warning cry from 
Shackelford causes Bob to turn and meet the 
fellows half way. They do not like the looks 
of things, but necessity impels them forward. 
Shackelford deliberately puts a bullet through 
the arm of one and disposes of him, while Bob 
dodges the vindictive blow the other aims at 
his head with a marlin spike, and proceeds to 
lay him out where he can do no harm. 

As for the Specimen, he runs around, and 
wherever he sees a dark face, knocks the man 
on the head with his revolver. Thus, in a very 
few minutes the English half of the crew has 
gained possession of the yacht. No lives have 
been lost, although some of the mutineers have 
been roughly handled. 

It is just at this moment that a dark form 


Monsieur Bob. 


289 


appears on deck. The battle is over, and there 
is no trouble in telling which side won. 

“ Good Heavens ! Look out for the Arab, 
Bob! ’’cries Shackelford, as this dark figure 
springs past him and rushes toward the spot 
in the bow where Monsieur Bob is bending 
over the senseless form of his recreant captain. 

The man from Chicago hears the warning, 
and, guessing its import, instantly springs to 
his feet and wheels, to find himself face to face 
with the dark-faced demon who has planned to 
have him cast into the crater of Vesuvius. 

Achmed has a knife in his hand ; perhaps the 
tip of it is poisoned so that even a scratch may 
bring death; Bob has heard of such things 
' down in Egypt, and does not like the idea of 
thus dying like a dog. 

He has nothing in his hands to ward off an 
attack, and it looks as though they must come 
^ to close quarters. Although Bob’s superior 
strength leaves no doubt as to the final result, 
i he does not fancj^ that knife, shaped something 
E like a Malay creese, caressing his ribs. 

I Achmed only pauses because the moonlight 
I dazzles his eyes, coming as he does out of the 
( hole where the darkness can be almost felt. 

( He knows the man he hates is before him, and 
I simply gathers strength for the rush as he 
f crouches there a few seconds, looking like a 
f wild animal at bay. 


290 


Monsieur Bob. 


Monsieur Bob has not forgotten the tricks 
picked up during gymnasium practice, and it 
is not in accordance with his usual custom to 
remain idle while an active foe threatens his 
life. 

As the murderous Arab launches his body 
forward with the full intention of falling upon 
Bob, and slashing him with the knife he waves 
above his head, he meets a sudden obstacle, 
upon which he has evidently failed to count. 

This is the foot of the Chicago giant. 

It has been suddenly extended, and takes 
Achmed exactly in the pit of the stomach. 
Shackelford, who has broken the spell which 
has apparently bound him, ' and advanced a 
few paces toward the scene of action, hears a 
peculiar thud, instantly followed by a shriek, 
and sees the Arab flying backward as though 
shot from a catapult, such is the tremendous 
impetus given by the muscular contraction of 
Monsieur Bob’s right leg; he has not engaged 
in rough-and-tumble fights on the field of glory 
during his collegiate foot-ball days for nothing. 

The knife and man part company, the former 
going overboard, while Achmed falls upon the 
deck, where he is instantly pounced upon by 
a little game-cock in the shape of the Honora- 
ble Felix, who endeavors to clutch the fellow’s 
throat with one hand, while the other, still 


Monsieur Bob. 


291 


I grasping the revolver, makes desperate blows 

I at Achmed^s cranium. 

It seems, however, that the Arab is not yet 
I subdued ; he rises to his feet with Felix actu- 
ally hanging on to his throat. One fierce toss 
he gives the little man, whose hold is broken 
and himself sent sprawling to the deck. The 
forward hatch being open, Felix gently slides 
out of sight. 

Several men, Shackelford among them, at- 
; tempt to corner the dark rascal, but Achmed, 

I possibly believing death at the yard-arm awaits 
I him if captured, springs to the side of the yacht, 

I raises one hand aloft as though invoking the 
curse of Mohammed upon the little ship and 
all those on board, and then plunges over. 

All distinctly hear the splash; they strain 
their eyes tosee where the wretched man comes 
to the surface, but no one catches a glimpse of 
j his head ; the yacht speeds on and Achmed is 
I left to his fate, twelve miles from shore ; there 
I is no hope of his ever reaching land. 

Those on board have no occasion to remem- 
ber the sorcerer with any regret. They turn 
their attention to living issues. 

Monsieur Bob calls all the men before him and 
addresses them. Few words are needed, as the 
honest British tars have already a pretty good 
idea as to the truth. They cheer him to the 
echo when he announces that henceforth John 


292 


Monsieur Bob. 


Burrows is to be known as the captain of the 
yacht, and heartily agree that the rascally mu- 
tineers get off lightly in being put adrift. 

Then the largest boat is made ready, water, 
provisions, oars and a small sail stowed away, 
after which Paxton and six of his leading spir- 
its are compelled to enter the boat. 

There are several others who claim to have 
been forced into the conspiracy, and as Bob 
reads faces he makes out that these fellows are 
weak-kneed but not vicious men. Hence they 
are pardoned and allowed to remain, with the 
full understanding that a second offence means 
death. 

Monsieur Bob himself bends down to cut the 
rope that drags the boat astern. No one 
speaks; it is too solemn an occasion for jokes 
of any sort. The men, seven in all, crouch in 
the bottom of the cedar craft; the dangers be- 
fore them have even paralyzed their tongues, 
and, though they scowl at the man whom they 
would have doomed to a terrible death, no one 
dares revile him. A fear of his indomitable 
strength and courage has come upon them all; 
they cower in his sight. 

The knife falls upon the rope; instantly the 
boat with its seven occupants drops astern. 
They can see it for some little time in the moon- 
light, rising and falling upon the waves ; and 
even notice that those aboard have recovered 


Monsieur BoE. 


293 


their senses, so that they are erectingthe small 
sail, which may help them head for the Balearic 
isles, some hundreds of miles north, or by skill- 
ful management enable them to work back to 
the Algerian coast. 

At the moment Monsieur Bob cuts the paint- 
er of the boat and sends the little bark adrift 
on the great Mediterranean, a dark face, with 
wet, black hair clinging to it, looks out from a 
bulPs-eye window midway toward the stern, 
and a pair of devilish Arab eyes catch a last 
glimpse of Paxton and his fellow voyagers as 
they drift astern. Then the face disappears. 


CHAPTER IV. 


WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BAY OF NAPLES. 

Days have passed since the yacht quitted the 
harbor of Algiers — days that to those onboard 
the little craft have seemed almost like a dream, 
followed by nights that can be likened only to 
those of which the poet sings. Sometimes the 
moon has hung above the sea, gilding their 
way to the east, like a strange lantern sus- 
pended in the heavens. Then, again, the stars 
are their only guide, beaming with liquid ten- 
derness upon the dimpling wavelets. 

On one night heavy clouds hide all the heav- 
enly luminaries, and a storm bowls down upon 
them from the north — a storm that howls and 
shrieks with demoniac fury for hours, and seeks 
with its demon fingers to tear the dandy yacht 
to pieces ; but there are brave hearts onboard, 
and men who know how to baffle the terrible 
designs of the storm-king manipulate the ves- 
sel so that, although she tosses about on the 
raging waters like a cork, she weathers the 
gale without loss of rigging. 

It puts them about a day^s sail out of the 

294 


Monsieur Bob. 


29v5 


way, but as beautiful weather again comes 
upon the sea, none o them regard this as a 
serious misfortune. 

Thus they speed on their way, and finally 
one afternoon draw near Naples, the city which 
is their destination. It is something more 
than a coincidence that brings them to this 
place, the very city which Paxton had intend- 
ed running for in case he was successful in cap- 
turing Monsieur Bob and handing him over to 
the tender mercies of the revengeful Achmed. 

One of the first objects they see, drawing 
near the coast, is the smoke that creeps up 
from the crater of the terrible Vesuvius. Then 
gradually objects upon land began to grow 
distinct as the fine westerly breeze wafts them 
on at a spanking pace, the little yacht doing 
her prettiest. 

All are on deck, enjoying the magnificent air 
and the picturesque view. The bay of Naples 
has always been famous for its beautiful scen- 
ery. It is in the form of a semi-circle, and the 
blue waters shelter boats and vessels of all na- 
tions, such as can only be seen in an Italian or 
oriental port. Take London or New York, and 
the eye meets ugly lighters, with dirty, patched 
sails, clumsy tugs, and boats used more for 
service than looks. In foreign countries, such 
as Algiers, Constantinople and Naples, besides 
the vessels of the world can be seen scores and 


296 


Monsieur Bob. 


hundreds of native boats that, their odd 
shape and picturesque appearance, add much 
to the beauty of the scene. 

The hills rise steeply behind, in terraces, and 
upon these the city is built. Above can be seen 
the frowning castle of St. Elmo, and, further on, 
the famous church of San Martino is outlined 
against the evening sky. On one side the rocks 
seem to project out into the sea, and here an- 
other grim fortification looms up — Castle 
Nuovo. 

With a setting sun falling upon this scene, it 
is really like one of enchantment. Never can 
any of those on board ever forget what their 
eyes now behold. 

Captain Burrows has fortunately been here 
before, when sailing under Campertown, and 
hence knows where to anchor. It is a lucky 
thing to reach port at just this hour, for it 
leaves only time to get nicely settled before the 
darkness rushes down upon them. 

As the darkness comes they can discover 
something of a strange light hovering over the 
ugly crown of Vesuvius, and Monsieur Bob^s 
thoughts must naturally take him back to the 
awful plan of that demon, Achmed, to toss 
him into the boiling lava deep down in the 
yawning crater of the volcano. If so, he dis- 
misses the thought with a shrug of the shoul- 


MONSIEUR feott. 


297 


ders, for he is in very pleasant company just at 
present, and as happy as a king. 

During the voyage of some seven hundred 
miles, consuming many days, it may be set 
, down for a fact that the people onboard Mon- 
sieur Bob^s yacht have become better acquaint- 
, ed with each other than would have resulted 
■ from a year’s intercourse on shore. 

Long since the whole business seems to have 
been cut and dried so far as the three couples 
are concerned . The soldier of fortune, accus- 
tomed to dashing onslaughts and desperate 
enterprises, does not let grass grow beneath his 
I feet. He has already had an understanding 
with Abdul Medshid, who admires him great-, 
ly, and undoubtedly the bold soldier must have 
won Zella’s consent, for their actions declare 
them to be lovers. 

No wonder the days have passed by on swift 
j wings, when the little god of love crowns the 
V'acht with his smiles. 

They seven sit down to their meals in the 
lovely cabin together, for Nanette is a maid no 
longer, but a companion to Nina, a place her 
accomplishments and family permit her to fill 
with honor. 

The evenings have been spent in music, and 
again and again the voice of song has gone out 
over the waters while their brave little craft 
fairly flies over the blue sea. And now they 


^98 


Monsieur Bob. 


have completed their long voyage at last, and 
the yacht lies anchored in the lovely bay of 
Naples, with the many lights of the wonder 
city gleaming on one hand, while on the other 
they can see the strange, awful glare that lights 
the fleeting clouds above the crown of old Ve- 
suvius. 

A steamer passes in just after they are an- 
chored, and the captain remarks to Monsieur 
Bob, near whom he chances to stand : 

*‘The steamer from Algiers, touching at 
Stora, Tunis and Palermo.^ ^ 

Monsieur Bob expresses surprise. 

“They must have started after we did, as 
they could make much better time,’’ he re- 
marks. 

The captain states it as his belief that this 
was the next steamer out after their departure. 

“She may carry news of our little adventure. 
We must scan the papers to-morrow,” Bob 
says. 

Then, as a sudden thought strikes him, he 
earnestly looks along the side of the little 
steamer, as though searching for some one. A 
number of persons can be seen leaning over the 
rail, but owing to the gathering darkness he 
fails to distinguish a single face. 

Then his thought, whatever it may be, dies 
away, for a soft hand plucks his sleeve, and 
Nina’s voice breathes words in his ear— Nina, 


Monsieur Bob. 2§9 

who has given her promise to become his wife 
when they reach this lovely city on the sea. 

He is very happy, this Monsieur Bob, and it 
is no wonder he does not see the shadows that 
already begin to fall athwart his path, for all 
around him seems happiness; he has health 
and wealth, and now the sweetest girl in all 
Europe has given him her love. What more 
could he ask of the gods ? 

Six bells and the call to supper. They sur- 
round the table in the cabin, and the cook out- 
does himself in the effort to please, for Bob has 
privately doubled his pay if he will do himself 
proud. 

When the meal is done they again seek the 
deck. Shackelford has business that takes him 
ashore, and the boat is to wait for him. Bob 
has offered his company, but the soldier will 
not listen to such a thing, knowing how well 
satisfied his friend must be to remain on board 
the yacht when it carries such precious freight 
as Ma'm’selle Nina. 

Somehow the veteran^s absence breaks up 
the usual jollity of the party. They do not 
sing on this night, but, sitting under the awn- 
ing, talk of the past events. 

As is natural, they fall to discussing their ab- 
sent fellow voyager, and Bob tells many a yarn 
in which the brave soldier figures as a hero. 
He has seen Aleck Shackelford engaged in more 


m 


Monsieur Bos. 


than one deed where his virtues shine forth. 
The story of his defense of the poor girl in Alex- 
andria, who was beset by drunken drag-omanSy 
is told again, along with others which have 
happened under the personal observation of 
Bob — at Cairo in Egypt, on board a Nile da- 
habieh when the crew of rowers mutinied and 
attempted to assassinate their passengers ; in 
Constantinople, and even away up at St. Pe- 
tersburg, where the friends unfortunately be- 
came mixed up with a band of Nihilists and 
were trapped by the secret police of the Third 
Section, only escaping transportation to the 
salt mines of Siberia on account of a ring 
Shackelford wore, which he sent to the czar, it 
being returned with their full pardon. 

These strange things Bob tells with pleas- 
ure ; it is a privilege for him to praise the man 
he loves as an elder brother, and who has 
stood at his shoulder when the iron hail of 
battle and death showered around. Bob is a 
natural story teller, and he exerts himself on 
this occasion to the utmost. 

His five hearers sit spell-bound, and time 
passes unheeded. Monsieur Bob is unable to 
explain where the soldier received the czar’s 
ring, but fancies it must have been for brave 
service on the field of Plevna, where Shackel- 
ford distinguished himself by leading a forlorn 


MdNsiEUR Bob. 


301 


hope, and carrying the Turkish position with 
the troops placed under his orders. 

Eight bells have struck, the dog watch is 
over, and at nine o’clock two bells sound again 
from an Italian man-of-war which is anchored 
to port. 

The conversation has become more general, 
and finally Zella, who seems to havelost inter- 
est in it when the subject no longer deals with 
the man she loves, bids the others good night 
and retires to her state-room. 

Soon Abdul follows suit. 

The two remaining couples promenade the 
deck for a short time longer, ^and in low tones 
talk over their plans for the future, which looks 
very bright as seen through love’s glasses. 

Finally the ladies declare they must also re- 
tire, and are reluctantly allowed to depart by 
the gentlemen. 

Left to themselves, Monsieur Bob and the 
Specimen conclude to have a last smoke before 
turning in. Campertown has been made happy 
by the discovery of seemingly unlimited quan- 
tities of excellent smoking tobacco which has 
been stowed away in various nooks by the 
master of the craft, and the little man has had 
nothing to complain of during the long voyage 
just ended in the harbor of Naples. 

So, lighting up, they puff away for a while 


302 


Monsieur Bob. 


and chat; many interesting subjects present 
themselves for discussion. 

Then Felix finishes his third cigarette, walk- 
ing up and down the deck in his nervous fash- 
ion, and announces his intention of seeking his 
divan in the cabin. 

Monsieur Bob is alone now. 

The sailor has strung up the hammocks un- 
der the awning, which Shackelford and himself 
have used with comfort since leaving Algiers, 
with but one night’s exception, when the storm 
raged, and on that occasion not a soul on 
board the dandy yacht had five minutes’ sleep, 
such was the awful roar of the elements and 
the tremendous heaving of the vessel. 

Moving to the rail. Bob leans over. He oc- 
casionally puffs at his weed, but it is in a me- 
chanical way, for his thoughts are far off. 

The night is warm and pleasant — a dreamy 
one, when the soul seems to float on drifting 
clouds. Bob sees the many lights of the city 
on the terraces, while standing grimly against 
the star-studded sk3" loom up the fortress of 
St. Elmo and the church of San Martino -- op- 
posing elements of war and peace. 

There are also many lights along the bay, 
where vessels lie at snug anchorage. The shore 
is not far away, and now and then he can hear 
laughter and voices. Once the sweet notes of 
a guitar cross the waters, and then comes the 


Monsieur Bob. 


303 


song of “dark Italia’s daughter.” How de- 
lightful music seems when stealing over a 
stretch of water ! It is more than romantic or 
sentimental — it stirs the very soul to its 
depths, and arouses long buried remembran- 
ces. Monsieur Bob listens like one in a dream. 
He feels as though he could stand there forever, 
listening to that sweet serenade. It will come 
back to him from time to time in the future, 
under favoring circumstances, for though he 
has not seen the singer, he can never forget the 
song. 

His cigar is burnt out, and he drops it over 
the rail into the water. As he turns his head 
to take a last sweeping glance around the 
strange scene, he fancies that the light above 
Vesuvius has grown more vivid — or is it an 
actual fact ? The volcano has been acting very 
queerly of late, and it is feared that an erup- 
tion may take place ere long. 

He gazes at the dark mass outlined there 
against the sky with queer feelings. So that 
was to have been his tomb could the plans of 
the vengeful Achmed have been carried out ! 

It is a rather strange thing for a man to be 
looking at the place where others have planned 
^his body shall lie. Really, no one could have 
a more imposing monument than this same 
grim old Vesuvius, Bob reflects with something 
of satire. 


304 


Monsieur Bob. 


It can be readily understood, however, that 
he is not at all in love with such a fate ; it 
pleases him better to be wedded to a delightful 
young woman, rather than the terrible crater 
of a volcano. 

Thus Monsieur Bob muses, with a smile, as 
he watches the glow upon the fleeting clouds 
rise and fall with each passing minute. The 
yacht rides easily at anchor, and the tiny 
wavelets slap against her bow and gurgle 
along her sides. What music this is to the ear 
of the yachtsman who loves his craft ! 

Bob is unconscious of the lapse of time. Tie 
is waiting to hear the voice of Shackelford call 
out “yacht ahoy.” More than once he fancies 
he catches the measured dip of oars, but the 
sound dies away. 

Something must detain Aleck. Although Bob 
has not been in Naples much, he knows a good 
deal about it — from the San Carlo theater, 
where he has seen a bad-mannered audience al- 
most mob a poor opera singer, to the great 
promenade known as the Palazzo Nazionale, 
where wonderful sights are to be seen after 
night has comC on. 

He knows Shackelford has to pass through 
a number of narrow streets swarming with 
lazaroni^ whose daily vocation is that of beg- 
gars demanding backshish, and night they 
ply their trade of thieves, 


Monsieur Bob. 


305 


Bob regrets now that he did not insist upon 
accompanying his friend, and hopes Aleck took 
his advice to have one of the sailors along. 
Why does he not come? He raises his head. 
W as that a shuffling noise near him ? The light 
of the lanterns hanging near by gives him a 
fair view of the deck, and as he turns his head 
he sees nothing save the first watch gathered 
in a knot forward, and doubtless spinning tre- 
mendous yarns. Still Monsieur Bob is almost 
ready to swear he felt the presence of some one 
near him. 

Really, he must be getting nervous. So 
much for the sleepless nights that have fol- 
lowed his love making. Is he growing thin 
and weak in proportion, he grimly asks him- 
self, as he shuts his right hand and delivers a 
tremendous blow at an imaginary enemy. 

I That does not look like it, surely; such an ar- 
1 gument would knock down an ox. 

Then he falls to speculating again as to the 
future, which seems rosy-hued. So far as the 
human eye can see there does not appear to be 
a cloud upon the horizon, and certainly no one 
can find cause for alarm. 

His love is dreaming now; does she see him 
in her sleep ? How delicious the thought that 
he occupies her mind at all times, to the exclu- 
sion of all else ! Lovers are ever selfish and ex- 
acting the world over. 

20 


3or, 


Monsieur Bob. 


Again Bob hears the same low sound that 
caught his ears before. Ah! it must be the 
gurgling of the water along the side of the ves- 
sel, or perhaps a laugh from one of the men. 

Hark! That is surely the dip of oars; the 
boat comes at last, and Shackelford will soon 
be with them, and probably his mission a suc- 
cess. 

Somehow while he thus leans there upon the 
rail. Monsieur Bob feels as though a spell is 
cast over him ; his limbs have lost their power 
of motion, and even his brain ceases to think. 

Is this the master 3” of sleep creeping over him 
or the lethargy of an evil spell ? He feels as 
must the doomed bird when fluttering before 
the serpent’s jaws, inhaling the overpowering 
odor it emits. 

It requires a herculean effort to break this 
strange spell, and Monsieur Bob does so onl3^ 
because mind is still master of matter. At the 
same second he gives this tremendous move 
there rings out upon the still night air the 
startled shriek of a woman. Close to his ear 
it sounds, and Monsieur Bob whirls around to 
look upon a sight he will surely never forget 
to his dying day. 

There, not five feet away from where he is 
standing, he discovers the woman he loves — 
Nina — with her arms locked about another 
man. In this individual Bob instantly recog- 


Monsieur Bob. 


307 


i 

! 

I 

! 


I 

I 

I 

i 


mzes the dark, Yindictive features of Achmed. 
What evil fate has brought him here ? But this 
is no time for questions, but action. 

The attitude of the strugglingArabindicates 
what he has been about when so suddenly 
seized by Nina’s arms. In one hand he holds a 
sailor’s sheath knife, stolen from one of the 
sleeping men, no doubt, and this he has been 
about to plunge into the back of the Chicagoan 
as he stands there dreaming. 

Thank God for the presence of Nina on the 
scene, and for the strength the desperate nat- 
ure of the situation gives to her arms! . She 
cannot hold the struggling Arab long, but 
even these few seconds are enough. Once Bob 
has turned and taken in this astonishing scene 
he is master of the situation. 

How he leaps forward ! The Arab tries to 
thrust his knife outward, but Nina has hold 
of that arm, and she hangs on with the desper- 
ate energy of a woman who loves and sees her 
darling in peril. 

This gives Bob a chance to fasten one hand 
upon the wrist of the Arab ; he gives it a snap 
and twist that seems to make the bones break, 
for Achmed shrieks with pain. 

Let him go, Nina! ” cries Bob fiercely, for 
he desires to toss the carrion over, and pollute 
the waters of Naples bay with his body. 

She hears, and, understanding, falls back, to 


308 


Monsieur Bob. 


watch with open eyes the work of this man 
who belongs to her. Monsieur Bob is fully 
aroused ; he is like a tiger hunted in the jungle 
and brought to bay. 

It is his notion just then that Achmed must 
have come from the sea, which has refused to 
harbor him, and back again he must go. 

With his other hand he now clutches the 
wretched Arab by his girdle. Few men could 
raise another as he is doing, and yet to this 
young athlete the thing is only what he has 
practiced scores of times in the gymnasium. 

A second or two he holds his dark-skinned 
enemy thus poised above his head, as if to 
gather strength for what is to follow. Then 
those suberb muscles of arms, back, hips and 
nether limbs come into play ; the Arab conjur- 
er shoots out over the rail of the little yacht 
like a great projectile sent from a dynamite 
gun. 

By the favor of the light thrown from the 
lanterns on board, they have one glimpse of 
tossing arms and legs as the fellow shoots 
through space; then comes a tremendous 
splash and all is over. 

The watch below come tumbling on deck, 
having been aroused by the cry of Nina, who 
is now sheltered like a trembling bird in Bob's 
arms. 

He orders the tars to man the sides so that 


Monsieur Bob. 


309 


the dusky devil shall have no chance to crawl 
aboard again. 

At this moment comes a hail in a cheery 
voice : 

‘‘Yacht ahoy!^’ 

It is Shackelford returned, and Bob is truly 
j glad to see him. As he clambers over the side 
of the vessel Aleck says : 

“ What the deuce was that fell overboard ? ” 

“A man,” replies Bob, with a laugh. 

“ Confusion ! You were at the bottom of it, 
111 wager, old chap. WhaCs up — another 
mutiny? ” 

“Did you see anything of the fellow, Aleck ? ” 

“I think I saw a head on the water, making 
for the landing, but just as I ordered the boat 
turned that way, it vanished.” 

“He^s a cunning rascal, I tell you.” 

‘ ‘ Meaning whom ? ” « 

“ Achmed ! ” 

“Jeruselum! Has he been on board? Tell 
me the whole story, old man.” 

This is soon done, and they turn to Nina for 
an explanation of her. presence. This she gives 
readily enough, though unable to offer any 
solution regarding the strange feeling she had 
that Bob was in trouble and calling her. So 
intensely strong did this become that she had 
gotten out of her bunk, dressed, and made her 
way to the deck, reaching it just in time to see 


310 


Monsieur Bob. 


that terrible figure rise up behind Bob, and to 
throw her arms around the Arab before he 
could make use of his terrible knife. 

‘‘It looks as though the sweet cherubs aloft 
that every Jack Tar believes in, have decided 
to watch over us, my darling,” says Bob, as 
he presses her to his side. i 

“ God is good,” she murmurs, from her nest- 
ling place near his heart. 

When Nina is influenced to retire again. Bob 
and Shackelford institute a court of inquiry'' 
concerning the presence of the Arab. Many a 
thing comes up which at the time of occurrence 
has seemed of little moment to the men, but 
now, in the light of this recent event, assumes 
a new phase. 

Putting these things together, they finally 
conclude that Achmed has been on board the 
yacht all the time; when he went overboard 
before he had caught some hanging rope at 
the stern and drawn himself up, hiding since 
then in the black hole, and stealing out in the 
dead of night to purlgin food from the galley, 
for the cook had several times missed things, 
which had walked off in a mysterious manner. 

Once in the bay of Naples the man had de- 
cided to leave the yaeht, but seeing a chance 
to effect his vengeance, could not withstand 
the temptation, with the result we have noted. 


Monsieur Bob. 


311 


It is a sweet thought to Bob Crane, that he 
owes his life to the girl he loves, and the cir- 
cumstance draws their hearts closer together. 


CHAPTER V. 


HAMMOCK TALK. 

The exciting incident of the night has almost 
entirely chased all sleep from the eyes of Mon- 
sieur Bob, and he readily joins Shackelford in 
a cigar. 

Lying in their hammocks, swung close to- 
gether, they can converse without speaking in 
tones that maybe overheard. Bob is eager to 
learn about the mission which took his friend 
ashore, since he believes he has an interest in 
the matter, but he refrains from saying any- 
thing about it, and is soon rewarded by a free 
confession on the part of the man who has 
been on Italian soil. 

“It’s all fixed, Bob. Had a great chase to 
find the good dominie, though. You see he 
used to put up at the Grande Bretagne, but at 
the hotel they told me he was living with our 
consul, Mr. Groesbeck, back of the church 
Santa Chiara. I arranged it all ; they meet us 
at nine in the morning. We take carriages to 
the base of the old volcano, and then, mount- 
ing, expect to arrive near the crater by three 


MoNSiEtTR Bob. 


313 


o’clock in the afternoon, where the greatest 
event old Vesuvius has ever seen will be con- 
summated.” 

‘‘I’ve no doubt they thought my notion was 
a ridiculous one, but — ” 

“Not at all. They said you could not find a 
more imposing place for such a ceremony. The 
view is grand, and the affair must certainly be 
classed unique.” 

“The ladies seem to be all agreed.” 

“Another good thing about it. I always 
did declare that if ever I married it would be 
under the heavens and in no church. This 
thing suits me exactly, and Camp, why he’s so 
crazy to call Nanette his own that he would 
consent to a wedding in a coal mine or any 
other odd place so long as it gave her to him.” 

“Everything is arranged, then ? ” 

“Nothing lacking but a fine day. By the 
way. Bob, I could almost swear I saw some 
one you know upon the street.” 

“ Who was that ? ” asked Bob, carelessly. 

“ Musta-el-Gaber ! ” coolly replies Aleck, and 
then grins at the sudden jump the other gives. 

“The deuce you say! Then he was on that 
steamer that came in! ” ejaculates Bob. 

“Very probably.” 

“Was he alone?” 

“At the time he passed me, yes; but he met 
some man at the corner beyond. I could n’t 


314 


Monsieur Bob. 


swear to the fact, but I have a good suspicion 
this party was the count.” 

‘‘Morisini,” murmurs Bob, thoughtfully, as 
he remembers the vindictiYC words which float- 
ed out from the Algerian shore. 

‘‘I would n’t swear to it, but why not? This 
is his native place. I am puzzled to know how 
they knew of our coming, that is all. Bob.” 

“ ‘ Kismet ! It is fate,’ I tell you, old fellow. 
They are all here, I reckon, Achmed and his 
daughter, el-Gaber, Osman Digna and the 
count. It looks to me as though we were 
bound to have one more grand round with 
these fellows ere the battle is won.” 

‘‘You don’t propose to change your plans, 
then ? ” 

“Yes, instead of one revolver I shall carry 
two,” returns Monsieur Bob, calmly, at which 
Aleck chuckles ; it is so like his Chicago friend. 

“We could have the dominie come out to the 
3^acht with the consul and his wife ; the triple 
ceremony might be performed here, after which 
we could provision and start for the Orient. I 
believe Constantinople is the next stopping 
place of the expedition.” 

Monsieur Bob grunts in disgust. 

“ I never yet ran away from danger. I’m no 
coward, 3"ou understand, Shackelford.” 

“Hardly; but. Bob, consider Ihe ladies.” 

“That’s just what I am doing. On the 


Monsieur Bob. 


315 


strength of a romantic union on Mt. Vesuvius, 
something never yet carried out, I believe, we 
have gained their consent to this hurried mar- 
riage. Their hearts are set on it. If we back 
out now they may also take it upon them- 
selves to change their minds.’’ 

'‘Bob, perhaps you’re right. Who knows? 
Women are changeable beings — variable as the 
shade cast by an aspen leaf, the poet tells us.” 

“Here, quit running down the sex, you old 
converted woman-hater. Honestly, do you 
think yourself we should be frightened out of 
our romantic plans by this mere shadow? ” 

“No,” vehemently replies the veteran. 

“Then why take the side you do ? ” 

“Because I wanted you to see the matter 
square in the face. We’ll call it settled, then 
Bob?” 

“Yes, and make our arrangements accord- 
ingly. If Morisini has transferred his vendet- 
ta from Algiers to Naples, we’ll try to accom- 
modate him in case of a meeting, to the best 
of our ability. I have no fears on that score, 
my good man.” 

“Well, I’ll follow your example, and carry a 
couple of revolvers for good luck. Heaven help 
the man who dares to try and lay a hand on 
— my wife How tenderly does the soldier 
of fortune pronounce that name! He has faced 
the world as a bache lor for more than fifty-five 


316 


Monsieur Bob. 


years, but that has not made his heart grow 
old, and he loves Zella with all the strength of 
his years. 

There is no moon now, since the old one has 
vanished, and the new is but a silvery horn 
that trembled hesitatingly a few minutes 
above the watery waste after darkness came, 
and then dropped behind the horizon. Hence 
the stars alone will keep watch over them as 
their little bark rocks upon the bay of Naples. 

Shackelford scratches another match on his 
boot, and applies the flame to his cigar, which 
has had the bad taste to go out while he talks. 

‘‘That was only a part of my mission 
ashore, Bob,^^ he says, complacently puffing 
away. 

“True enough. You spoke of private busi- 
ness. How did you succeed ? ’’ 

“Even better than I expected. I waslooking 
for a man who carries a secret with him which 
I would give something to possess. There’s 
no need of my entering into particulars, but 
this matter has great weight with me. 

“This man. Signor Guido Lombardi, was a 
sort of head chamberlain at the Palazzo Reale, 
probably the finest building in all Naples. Aft- 
er getting through with my other business I 
walked along the strada di Toledo until finally 
I found myself opposite the palace, which 
was lighted up as though some festivity was 


Monsieur Bob. 


317 


going on. Upon making inquiry I found that 
the man I wanted was dead ! 

Thunder ! And you call that good luck ? 
bursts out Monsieur Bob. 

“Wait,” smiles Shackelford, “you shall see. 
I asked when he died, and they said the morn- 
ing previous. Only that day his remains had 
been taken to the commoner cemetery to be 
buried. 

“Perhaps you don’t know how they get rid 
of the poorer classes here. The Campo Santo 
Vecchio contains three hundred and sixty-five 
cells, one for every day in the year. Each 
morning one of these cells is opened, and all 
the bodies received the previous day are tum- 
bled in promiscuously, after which the cell Is 
hermetically Sealed for a year, and on the fol- 
lowing day another opened in rotation. ” 

“A beastly business. I’ve seen the Hindoos 
burn their dead, and thought it the most sen- 
sible way, the ashes being cast on the Ganges,” 
says Bob, reflectively. 

“And on my part I shall always believe the 
Parsees in India have the most terrible way of 
disposing of their dead.” 

“ How is that, Aleck ? ” 

“Do you mean to tell me you failed to visit 
the Towers of Silence at Bombay when there ? ” 

“ There was trouble just then, and no for- 
eigner was allowed to enter. I’ve always been 


318 


Monsieur Bob. 


curious about that place, though. Suppose 
you tell me what you saw there. 

“Readily, my boy, seeing there’s no sleep for 
us under the circumstances. To begin, these 
towers are located on an elevation overlooking 
the city. They are five in number, and from 
eighty to one hundred and twenty feet in di- 
ameter, and twenty to thirty feet high, with- 
out a roof of any sort. The interior reminded 
me of an ancient amphitheater. It is smooth- 
ly paved, and has three concentric rings or cir- 
cles. There are passage ways between the 
rings to allow the passing to and fro of the 
corpse bearers. 

“The outer one of these circles is for male 
bodies, the middle for female, and the inner one 
is entirely given over to children. Note the 
conformity even in death to the Parsec’s idea 
of the general relation of the sexes, for in India, 
you know, as in Turkey, the women are treat- 
ed as having no souls, as being an inferior sort 
of human clay, an^^way. In the center of the 
tower is a deep pit, and drains, filled with 
charcoal, lead from this. 

“The Parsees place the body in one of the 
rings and retire, closing and locking the iron 
door. Almost immediately hundreds of large 
vultures that have been sitting idle on the 
walls of the towers and the branches of neigh- 
boring trees, swoop down, and in an hour 


Monsieur Bob. 


319 


nothing remains of the body bnt the cleanest 
bones. In three days these are thrown into 
the central pit, where they become dust. 

‘‘The water from the pit draining through 
the charcoal leaves the earth pure. The sur- 
roundings of;, -he towers are neat and clean, 
and I did not feel the horror I expected. Not 
a sound was heard in all the place save the 
dripping of water or the occasional croak of a 
vulture, but I assure you. Bob, I was glad to 
leave the Towers of Silence. 

“Thanks for the description. I’ve seen odd 
burial rites in many parts of the world, but 
never anything like that. Now go on with 
your yarn, old fellow. If you found your man 
dead, how is it you speak of success? The 
dead can’t tell secrets.” 

At this Shackelford chuckles. 

“Sometimes that is a deuced lucky thing. 
Monsieur Bob, if you know it,” he says. 

“Confusion! I begin to see light. Excuse 
me for being so obtuse,” murmurs Bob. 

“This Signor Lombardi held a secret which 
affected my family — the old story of a wild 
younger brother. Of course I don’t mean to 
go into details, but it was important that I 
should buy a paper this man held in order to 
save the reputation of poor Jack, now dead. 

“When I learned that the signor was dead 


320 


Monsieur Bob. 


and his body placed in the sepulchre that morn- 
ing, I hoped the secret was safe forever. 

“Then 1 remembered it was a secret in 
writing, and that did not die with the dead ; 
so I set to work trying to find that document. 

“I pretended that the dead man was an old 
friend of mine, and that I would be pleased to 
pay a liberal price for the clothes in which he 
had been wont to walk daily. 

“This aroused the cupidity of the new major 
domo, and when he saw the color of my gold 
it would have done your heart good to have 
seen the way he went to look for those gar- 
ments. 

“I bought them on chance, and while the fel- 
low had gone to get something to wrap them 
in I searched the pockets with trembling hands. 

“Not a copper had been left in them, but sev- 
eral papers were there, which they evidently 
considered without value. Among them was 
the one I wanted. I instantly glanced over it, 
and, satisfied, held it over a lamp and watched 
it burn to ashes. Then I pocketed the other 
papers and carried off the bundle, to toss it 
into the first dark niche I found. 

“ Tm glad you were so successful, Aleck. 
When I spoke of coming to Naples I noticed 
that you were well pleased, although I didn’t 
mention the fact.” 

“Yes, I had discovered where this man was 


Monsieur Bob. 


321 


to be found, and it seemed as tbough the fates 
favored me. Looking at it now, don’t you 
see what has been done for me ? If I had come 
later on that paper might have fallen into the 
hands of some one who would have black- 
mailed me with the greatest of pleasure.” 

“That’s a fact. Now let’s talk about our 
affairs and — tomorrow.” 

This is a subject that interests them both, 
and for some time their conversation is earn- 
est. Then they note the fact that they are 
sleepy, and Bob goes the rounds to make sure 
that the watch is vigilant. He finds every- 
thing satisfactory, and can see no reason why 
he and Shackelford should not enjoy a sleep. 

The light still hovers above Vesuvius, and 
there is something of a fascination in it to 
Bob. With his last glance he wonders what 
the outcome of the morrow will be; then, 
tumbling into his hammock, discovers that the 
captain has already jdelded to the influence of 
the god of slumber, gradually closes his own 
eyes, and is asleep. 

While the gentle waves lap the sides of the 
yacht, and a zephyr sighs through the rigging, 
the master sleeps on. Why not, when to-mor- 
row’s sun ushers in his wedding morn. 

The watch is changed at eight bells, and 
those who retire pass the word on that Mon- 
sieur Bob has promised a doubloon to each 
21 


322 


Monsieur Bob. 


member of the crew in case morning finds 
things all serene. They have learned consider- 
able abont past events from Burrows, and un- 
derstand just what danger menaces them. 
Hence, each man keeps an unusually bright 
lookout, so that in case there is an attack of 
any sort, they will not be taken by surprise. 

The night is full of alarms, it seems. 

Just after the changing of the watch there is 
a sudden racket from the Italian man of war. 
Men shout, some shots are fired, and boats 
with lights in them can be seen moving about 
on the water of the bay. 

Of course both Bob and Shackelford are out 
of their hammocks instantly. Captain Bur- 
rows comes up just then, as if to explain. 

-‘’T ain’t an unusual thing, sir. Men often 
desert from these Italian men-o’-war. I reck- 
on they shot that chap, or else he got away; 
hope it is the latter, for I tell you they are 
slaves aboard them steel-clads.” 

^‘How about British service?” asks Bob 
slily. 

“Well, you see, sir, men ain’t treated now as 
the^^ used to be. Still there are desertions at 
times; every one ain’t suited.” 

They watch the lights moving about, and 
finally one of the boats draws near. An officer 
in the stern sheets hails the yacht, and in 
French-asks whether they have seen anything 


Monsieur Bob. 


323 


of a deserting seaman in that quarter, where- 
upon of course Monsieur Bob makes answer 
that they have not, upon which the courteous 
officer exchanges compliments with him and 
returns to the man-o’-war. 

Gradually all becomes quiet again, and Bob 
falls asleep, to dream of strange things, in 
which bellowing volcanos and runaway sail- 
ors are strangely intermingled. 

He is not allowed to sleep out the night, 
however, without another interruption. 

This time it comes in a vigorous punch from 
Shackelford. Bob, fully awake, lies still to see 
whether it is an accident or design, and thus 
receives a second dig in the ribs. 

‘‘Letup,’^ he grunts, thinking his friend is 
only up to some practical joke. 

There comes a low ‘‘hist,’^ and he sees the 
head of the soldier between himself and the city 
lights, as Shackelford rises in his hammock and 
leans toward him. When Bob follows suit 
their heads almost touch. 

‘‘What’s up? Are you dreaming, Aleck?” 
asks the master of the yacht, not yet certain 
that his friend is really awake. 

“No; I’ve been awake for some time; don’t 
know why; waked up suddenly and seemed to 
have no more sleep in my eyes. While I lay 
here thinking, a man brushed past me, sneak- 


324 


Monsieur Bob. 


ing along ; he was wet, too, for I could feel the 
dampness where he touched me.’^ 

Come, has the watch gone to sleep ? 

“No, but I imagine this fellow must have 
crawled aboard at the time the watch was 
changed, and passed me in seeking other quar- 
ters/’ 

“ Achmed ? ” 

“Doubtful, mj boy. If it had been him the 
first we would have heard would have been 
his Arab curse as he drove his knife home.” 

“ Who then, Aleck ? ” 

“Perhaps el-Gaber, or more likely the poor 
devil of an Italian sailor who deserted from 
the man-o’-war over yonder.” 

“I reckon the last is true. What shall we 
do? ” 

“He was crawling toward the stern where 
one of the boats has been left. I noticed that 
the men had forgotten to swing it up.” 

“Jove! That’s what he wants, the rascal — 
to get ashore. Perhaps he’s afraid of sharks.” 

As he speaks Monsieur Bob springs from his 
hammock and is instantlj^ followed by his 
friend, who means to stick by him. Some of 
the watch are met with, but none of them have 
seen anything of a prowler. Bob himself is 
half disposed to believe the captain must have 
dreamed it all, but having had one experience 


Monsieur Bob. 


325 


with Achmed he does not mean to allow the 
same thing to be repeated. 

So they set to work searching the vessel from 
stem to stern. Fore and aft the sailors hasten, 
but Bob and Shackelford turn their steps 
toward the stern, having their idea as to what 
course the deserter will take. 

Sure enough there is the boat, secured by the 
painter. Some one will get into difficulty when 
Captain Burrows sees this. 

Just now the two men are deeply interested 
in an object which the boat contains. A man 
seems to be in the bow fingering the painter, 
and endeavoring to cast off, as though he 
lacks the knife necessary to sever the rope. 

“Hello, there!’’ exclaimed Bob. 

A low cry of disma3% a splash, and the 
boat no longer contains a living form, but the 
waves that are noticed when a sailor brings a 
lantern upon the scene indicate that the de- 
serter is heading for the shore. 

Having no more interest in the affair. Bob 
again seeks his hammock. He hopes there will 
be no further alarm, as he is tired of this busi- 
ness. 

The watch exercise vigilance, but nothing 
occurs to stir them up, and finally the gray 
dawn appears over the hills where grim Castle 
St. Elmo stands, outlined in silhouette against 
the back^ound of increasing light, 


CHAPTER VI. 


DESERTED AT THE CRATER. 

The day opens clear and beautiful, and seems 
to promise well. Campertown is on deck dressed 
in a most astounding checked suit, before 
which all previous efforts pale into insignifi- 
cance. Strange, how this little beast, whose 
mind seems to run so to loud suits, enormous 
canes and small hats, should have so much 
good sense in other things. As he gazes upon 
the monstrosity. Bob inwardly hopes Camp 
will be a changed man when he becomes a 
benedict, and the chances he believes are de- 
cidedly that way if he has judged the adorable 
Nanette aright. 

Poor Felix does not know what a crisis in 
his affairs has arrived, and how he must also 
shed his inane desire for loud dress with his 
bachelor freedom ; “but ’twill bethemakingof 
Camp, dear boy,” mutters Bob. 

Then he forgets all about the little Briton 
and his fortunes, for Nina has come on deck, 
and Bob has eyes and ears only for her. 

It would hardly be fair to tell all that he 

326 


Monsieur Bob. 


327 


whispers in her ears, for remember, this is 
their wedding day. There, npon the brow of 
old Vesuvius, they will be united. It will be 
something to remember always, and girls are 
romantic wherever you find them. Perhaps, 
alone, not one of the three would consent to 
go through the ceremony, but the fact that 
they have companions in it gives them a pe- 
culiar courage. 

Breakfast is soon ready. 

Bob has arranged his plan as well as the cir- 
cumstances will allow, and does not know that 
it can be bettered. As soon as they have gone 
ashore the yacht is to change her anchorage, 
and take up a position near the foot of the 
mountain. Here they can come in the two ve- 
hicles after descending, enter the boats and be 
taken to the yacht. It will also be convenient 
for them in the morning to go ashore, with the 
carriages in waiting again, and be driven along 
the road to Pompeii, where a day can prof- 
itably be spent, lunch being secured, at the 
picturesque inn near the ruins of the house 
known as Diomede. 

This plan has been arranged to suit their 
convenience, and the greatest benefit they will 
receive comes from not having to pass through 
the ill-smelling streets near the quay at night- 
fall. This is worth going to some trouble to 
escape. 


328 


Monsieur Bob. 


All being ready, they embark. The gentle- 
men look happy, while the ladies blush almost 
constantly, as expectant brides are supposed 
to do. Fortunately they have veils, which ere 
long are drawn down over their faces to hide 
their embarrassment. 

The boats take them all ashore, and each of 
the sturdy Jack Tars is remembered by the 
gentlemen. Their good wishes follow the par- 
ty as they enter the carriages and set upon 
their singular mission. 

Upon such an occasion as this it might be 
suspected that Monsieur Bob would lose some- 
thing of his shrewd judgment. Most men are 
hardly in a condition to transact business on 
their wedding day. 

Here is one, however, who feels that they 
are not yet entirely free from danger, and that 
it behooves a certain individual known as 
Monsieur Bob to be himself. 

Hence, he keeps his eyes about him. One of 
the first things he notices is the man upon the 
box, the driver of their vehicle, and Bob, who 
is a very good judge of ph3^siognomy, decides 
that the Jehu is a tough customer. 

He waits until he has a glimpse of the other 
fellow, and then thinks : 

“Two jail birds, or I’m not Bob Crane. Is 
it accident or design that sends them here? ” 
This thought returns several times to bother 


Monsieur Bob. 


329 


him, for he does not underestimate the abil- 
ities of his foes, and fears lest a gigantic plot 
may have been engineered for their destruc- 
tion, in which these two fellows are factots. 

Bob does not forget that they are in a 
strange country, and that the sympathy of 
the masses always goes with a fellow country- 
man. Perhaps Count Morisini is powerful 
here. 

At any rate, he concludes, these two men will 
do to stop a couple of bullets from a Yankee 
revolver he knows of, for if it comes down to 
business. Monsieur Bob will not hesitate to 
shoot would-be assassins at Naples an\^ more 
than he did at Algiers. 

Pie cannot speak of his suspicions to Shack- 
elford, because the ladies sit opposite, and 
whispering is not allowed. When the oppor- 
tunity offers, though, he does manage to say 
in a low tone of voice : 

‘‘I admire your taste in drivers, Aleck. 

The other shrugs his shoulders and mut- 
ters: 

“I didn’t select ’em. Beauties, ain’t they? 
Bear watching, I guess, old man.” Which re- 
mark goes to prove that the doughty captain 
has also kept his wits about him, even on this, 
the most astonishing day of his life. 

These four occupy one carriage, with Abdul 
^ud the other pair of turtle doves in the other, 


330 


Monsieur Bob. 


They stop at the house of the American con- 
sul, and learn that the party have just gone. 
The chances are they will overtake them on 
the road, or at least find them at the Atrio dei 
Cava77/ or “Vestibule of Horses,” where visitors 
to the volcano have to leave their vehicles, 
and finish the ascent on foot. 

Gaily they chatter along. The ladies recov- 
er their spirits and seem very happy. More 
than once the Specimen stands up in the front 
coach and waves a kerchief of startling colors 
to those who come behind, as an indication of 
his exuberant feelings. At any rate little 
Campertown sees nothing in the air to cloud 
his spirits. He declares again and again that 
he is the happiest man on earth, and the poor 
old merchant must feel very uncomfortable 
in the company of such spoons. He keeps his 
eyes out for the scenery, however. 

It is to be feared its grandeur is not fully ap- 
preciated by any of the younger members of 
the party. When eyes full of love meet orbs 
that reciprocate the tender feeling — when a cas- 
ual touch from a hand will send the blood ri- 
oting madly through every vein — when each 
softly spoken word seems like a caress — can 
any one be blamed for failing to note the deso- 
late nature of the inclined plane up which the 
carriages take them, where instead of grass 
the eye rests on burnt stones, looking for all 


Monsieur Bob. 


331 


the world like the scoriae of an iron furnace, 
with here and there the marking of an old lava 
stream ? 

Certainly not. 

Fairer scenes would fail to draw forth more 
than a casual notice from those who are so 
wholly wrapped up in each other. 

This drear^^ plain extends for nearly three 
miles; the ascent is gradual, until, at the top, 
the traveler finds himself some two thousand 
feet above the level of the sea. 

From this point the view is superb. Vesuvi- 
us stands up like a black wall, some fifteen 
hundred feet above the top of the plain, shoot- 
ing up against the blue sky like a grim mon- 
ster. Back of this cone, and about as high, 
are the remains of Monte Somma, of which 
volcano Vesuvius is but the remainder and 
representative. 

Between the burnt ground and the sea is a 
belt about two miles in width, partly covered 
with vineyards, with here and there a terrace 
of the same black calcined matter, unveiling 
some old current of lava beneath. 

It is a singular spectacle — a grand, terrible 
sight that awakens one’s fears, but does not 
call forth enthuvsiasm. The blue sea is the 
best part of it all, and upon its peaceful bosom 
the eyes find rest. 

The Hermitage is reached, Here some monks? 


332 


Monsieur Bob. 


entertain travelers who visit the volcano. As 
our friends have a small hamper of provisions, 
they do not stop here for a meal. 

The vehicles are left, and the men shoulder 
what small packages there are to carry. All 
in the party are provided with alpine sticks, 
which facilitate the ascent. 

The ladies have dressed as best the circum- 
stances allow in order to climb. Perhaps it 
may not be long before they will wish they had 
been content with less romantic ideas, for the 
ascent is very direct and rough, but love ten- 
derly helps them on, and wonders are done. 

By going slowly, they manage to accom- 
plish much. It is generally easier to climb up 
a height than to descend. Man^^ an unwary 
traveler has found this out to his sorrow. 
Men have even climbed the Palisades of the 
Hudson at their most precipitous point, but 
who ever heard of an3^one descending them? 

The view grows more magnificent, and at 
each resting place they feel repaid for the hard 
labor. A grand panorama stretches out be- 
fore them, of mountains, valleys and sea, with 
Naples nestling in her snug retreat along the 
shore of the romantic bay. 

Shackelford has been up on Mont Blanc. He 
is one of the few daring souls who have made 
a desperate endeavor to scale the Matterhorn. 
He declares that his previous experiences can 


Monsieur 6ob. 


353 


bear no comparison with this. At that time his 
greatest danger was theehanceof being frozen 
to death ; now he realizes that there is a possi- 
bility of his being roasted. 

Indeed, when an hour or so has passed since 
leaving the vehicles, during which they have 
made remarkable progress that does credit to 
the ladies of the party, the ground under their 
feet has become so hot that one cannot allow 
the hand to rest upon it half a minute at a 
time, and such a state of affairs must be pretty 
hard upon their foot gear. 

Still proceeding, they come to where smoke 
issues from cracks, a sulphurous smoke that^ 
causes one to choke when inhaled. A piece of 
paper thrust into one of these crevices takes 
fire very quickly, and even a stick does the 
same. Imagine the consternation of the 
ladies. They come together and resolve to 
give in ; they have gone as far as they dare. 
See, in places the thin but hard crust has a 
sunken appearance, a significant indication of 
its frail tenure. If the gentlemen desire to con- 
tinue to the crater, now close at hand, they 
can do so. 

Monsieur Bob is the only one who cares to 
say he has looked down into the awful crater 
of Vesuvius, and, securing a rope, he starts oft' 
with one of the guides. 

Shackelford is on the alert, and sees a look 


334 


Monsieur Bob. 


in the eyes of the man that horrifies him. He 
turns to Felix, who chances to be near him. 
The other guide is assisting the ladies tospread 
a picnic table on a rock that, by some chance, 
is cooler than the surroundings, while the 
minister and consul take turns using a pair 
of field glasses. 

“Overtake them, m^’’ dear fellow. I don’t 
trust that guide. It would be like him to wait 
until Bob strains the rope looking over into 
that hell-hole and then let him go. Give him 
to understand you are armed, and that his 
own life will pay for any treachery.” 

• Campertown understands just what is ex- 
pected of him. He scampers off. Although 
his short legs make good time he arrives on 
the scene to find Bob, with the rope around 
his waist, creeping forward to the verge of the 
crater, while the guide holds the rope and 
allows it to gradually slip through his hands. 

Even the Specimen is struck with the devilish 
grin upon the Italian’s dark face, as he keeps 
his black eyes glued on the form of the man 
from Chicago, creeping nearer and nearer that 
death-hole which has swallowed up many a 
life. That very look seems to be saying, “five 
hundred lire” — the price of Monsieur Bob’s 
accidental drop into the awful depths where 
the molten lava, covered with ashes, boils and 


Monsieur Bob. 


336 


bubbles, sending up the terrible odors thru 
make the brain reel. 

Campertown has drawn a revolver, and his 
appearance is quite dramatic as he taps the 
chuckling guide on the shoulder. 

“What seems so funny, dear boy? See this 
little toy ? Really, I shall be compelled to blow 
the crown of your beastly head off if anything 
happens to my friend. You savvy ? ” 

Whether the guide understands his words or 
not, there can be no mistaking his actions, 
and while the fellow looks troubled at first he 
soon scowls and clutches the rope firmly. 
There is no longer danger from this source. 
Monsieur Bob, so take your own good time. 

Bob has no intention of trusting wholly to‘ 
the rope. He takes hold of a rock with one 
hand, tests its stability, then looks back and, 
seeing Campertown’s attitude, waves his hand 
in greeting, after which he bends over to gaze 
down into that devil’s hole, where the imps 
seem to be brewing day and night, year in and 
year out. 

A short survey is quite enough to suit his 
fancy, and during this period the Specimen 
stands with his revolver in sight, ready to 
carry out his threat. When his own life will 
pay the penalty should the American meet 
with an accident and fall into the crater it is 
absolutely certain that the guide strains at the 


336 


Monsieur Bob. 


rope, and even braces his foot against a rock in 
order to prevent such a catastrophe. 

Then Monsieur Bob comes back and insists 
on Campertown assuming his place. 

“Never have the chance again, and some- 
thing to speak of. Get a piece of the rock 
from inside the crater; the wind blows the 
sulphur smoke the other way most of the time. 
It will commemorate this great day when 
Nanette becomes Madame Felix.” 

Bob’s arguments are as usual overpowering, 
and this sly allusion to Nanette completes the 
business. Felix determines to go forward now 
and do the honors for the Campertown family. 

“Watch our man. Bob. I wouldn’t want 
Nanette to be a widow before she’s been a 
wife,” he sa3^s, in a significant tone. 

“I’ll do better — hold the rope m3^self,” de- 
clares the athlete, as he takes it from the hands 
of the guide, whom he orders below. 

The man goes with a sullen, dejected air. 

“By Jove! Reminds me of a fellow who sees 
another chap pick up a fat purse just in front 
of him,” is the unique remark Campertown 
makes. 

Then he walks away with the rope secured 
around his waist. He is not built on the same 
plan as Bob, and one look is about enough for 
Camp, who grabs up a fragment of black rock 
that almost blisters his fingers, and beats a 


Monsieur Bob. 


337 


hasty retreat, rubbing his eyes as he comes as 
though blinded by the smoke. 

What a sight this old volcano must be dur- 
ing one of its violent eruptions ! On a certain 
occasion, the guides will tell you, streams of 
lava have shot up into the air nearly ten thou- 
sand feet, and again, millions of red hot stones 
have belched out until the whole mountain 
seemed to be of a white heat. 

These vouched for eruptions must pass as 
insignificant, however, beside the awful one 
that destroyed Pompeii and Herculaneum in 
the year 79 A. D., burying them under nearly 
a hundred feet of mud and ashes. 

To-da^^ the former city has been dug out and 
so fully restored to what it was that we are 
amazed, and find it easy to understand the 
Roman life of eighteen centuries back, the prog- 
ress of their art and science, the nature of 
their amusements and home. life. Why, one 
almost expects to meet a Roman senator in his 
toga upon the deserted streets, or hear the 
screams of battle between doomed Christians 
and wild beasts in the arena. 

Monsieur Bob and his little friend have seen 
enough of the crater. Its yawning orifice is a 
shuddering sight, horrible enough to haunt 
them for many a day, and they gingerly pick 
their way over the smoking cracks to where 

the others can be heard laughing, 

22 


338 


Monsieur Bob. 


The party seem merry enough, and it is evi- 
dent that they do not see the shadow that 
hangs over their heads, 

A rude table has been spread, and what 
luncheon they carry is placed upon it. Fort- 
unately the3^ are not thrown upon the mercy 
of the Naples hotels, although there are few 
better in all Italy. The lun9h, such as it is, 
has been prepared on board the yacht, and 
they know every article that enters into its 
composition. 

All is now ready. 

The American consul is a bright, witty gen- 
tleman, and he makes a speech in which he al- 
ludes to the peculiarly happy event that is 
about to take place. 

He is heartily cheered, for the little party 
seems to be very socially inclined now. Then 
the dominie takes a hand, makes a neat little 
address in which he admits that this affair is 
by all odds the most singular that has ever 
come under his observation, and finally invites 
the three couple to stand up before him. 

Then begins a most impressive scene, in 
which our individual characters have a most 
peculiar interest. The minister of the gospel 
has chosen a beautiful service, bringing in a 
part of the responses of the English church, 
and by degrees the ceremony is wrought out 
which unites those who love, 


Monsieur Bob. 


339 


It may be readily understood that the three 
grooms have e3^es and ears for nothing else. 
A man while being married cannot pay atten- 
tion to outside matters. Ever}" beiiedict will 
bear me out in that statement. If he gets 
through his own share of the business with- 
out blunders he deserves credit. This all of 
them succeed in doing, and finally the last 
words are spoken. Each happy husband 
bends over and kisses his blushing bride. And 
the ceremony" is ended. 

Then begins a series of handshakings among 
the men, and kissing among the ladies. All 
are in the happiest state of their lives, when 
they realize that at last the deed is done that 
unites them. Nothing but death can separate 
them now ; and who wants to think of death 
at such a gala time as this ? 

The ascent of the volcano has made them 
have a sharp appetite. Breakfast was eaten 
early, and some hours have passed since noon. 
Even the fact that they have passed through 
the climax of their lives does not entirely make 
Monsieur Bob and the brave captain forget 
that they are still human. 

They seize upon tin platters and beat a tatoo 
that calls the good people around the novel 
picnic table. Ten in all, they count and as 
merry a party as ever scaled the heights of 
i^ugged old Vesuvius. Jest and repartee follow 


340 


Monsieur Bob. 


each other in rapid succession, as they proceed 
to discuss the lunch provided by the cook on 
board the 3^acht, who, understanding the cir- 
cumstances, has tried to excel himself. 

Thus time passes. Precious time! It is un- 
noticed b^" these happy people. Heaven has 
been so kind to them that even the veteran 
soldier of fortune seems to forget there is such 
a thing in the world as human passion, and 
to Monsieur Bob everything looks rosy-hued. 

Still, it is this latter individual who, while 
the festivities are going on, casts a sudden look 
of apprehension around. What has caused 
this feeling on his part ? A change in the wind 
brings a little cloud of smoke around them, 
and sets a number to coughing, but it ha,s the 
effect of arousing Monsieur Bob. 

He awakens from the dream which has held 
him spell bound. He throws off the incubus 
from his shoulders. Plainly speaking, he be- 
comes himself, and thinks. 

Then he notices something — many things in 
fact, to which all of them have been blind in 
their enjoyment of the feast where each has 
striven to do his share toward making the 
whole a success — where wit has sparkled al- 
most as famously as the champagne. 

Monsieur Bob first takes note of the fact 
that, with the change of the winds, colud have 
rolled up. They come from the east, and there 


Monsieur Bob. 


341 


is an ngly significance in the raw feeling of the 
wind that probably foretells a storm. 

This is only a beginning. 

The next action on the part of the American 
benedict is to quietly draw out his watch. No 
one observes him. Each person seems con- 
cerned with something or other, and the la- 
dies are wiping away the tears which have 
been started by that sulphurous breath from 
the crater. 

Good Heavens ! It lacks but a few minutes 
of four ! What folly to let time pass unheed- 
ed, simply because he has been getting mar- 
ried. Bob cannot forgive himself. 

He has sense enough not to jump up and 
alarm the others, but when he looks around for 
the guides, intending to set them to work get- 
ting ready for the descent, he receives a new 
shock. 

The time is past now for hiding the truth. 
Monsieur Bob leans over and taps Shackel- 
ford’s arm. As the other looks up he crooks 
his finger, and Aleck follows him aside. 

“Do you know it is nearly four? ” he asks. 

“The deuce you say ! ” 

“And the heavens clouding over? ” 
Shackelford thinks of his wife and grows 
nervous. 

“Dolt that I am! Can’t even get married 
without losing my mind. Come, we must 


342 


Monsieur Bob. 


hurry the guides. By the way, when did you 
see them last ? ” 

^‘Just before the ceremony. My God, man! 
do you mean to tell me they are gone ? ” " 

“Without a doubt, Aleck. We must face 
the music. We have been deserted at the cra- 
ter of Vesuvius, with night coming on, and a 
storm in prospect; deserted, with death star- 
ing us all in the face. Have you forgotten 
that mad Italian shrieking out from the Alge- 
rian shore? This is Count Morisini’s revenge.” 


CHAPTER VIl. 


MONSIEUR BOB ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE. 

• 

These two men, who have gone through so 
many dangers together with sueh wonderful 
sang froid^ stand there and look into each 
other’s face. They experience a new feeling 
that has hitherto been foreign to their natures 
— the cold clutch of fear at their hearts ! It is 
no longer the reckless bachelor who faces a 
difficult3^, but the man who has had a new ele- 
ment, an additional care placed upon his 
shotilders — the responsibility of married life. 

Aleck, this is a desperate thing. Without 
guides how are we to get down from here?’^ 
says Bob. 

“Heaven alone knows,” responds the cap- 
tain. 

“I neglected to notice much of the way, be- 
cause — well, I was taken up with Nina.” 

“lam in the same boat. For once in my 
life I have been caught napping,” admits 
Aleck. “One thing is certain — we can’t staj^ 
here.” 

“That’s true.” 


34.3 


344 


Monsieur Bos. 


“We must make a determined effort to get 
down. EYer\^ minute is precious,’^ with a 
glance toward the cloudy sky, and then in the 
direction of the crater, which seems to be 
vomiting out a greater quantity of smoke than 
was the case an hour or so before. 

“Why do 3^ou look that way?^^ asks Mon- 
sieur Bob, quick to take the alarm. 

“To tell the truth, I was thinking what if 
old Vesuvius should take a notion to spout 
to-night.” 

“ God help us then ! What put that idea into 
your foolish old head, man ?” hoarsely, from 
Bob. 

“I heard our guides muttering something 
about it as we came up. Then, you know, I 
have experienced something of earthquake 
shocks, and have seen an eruption of a volcano 
in my time. There’s a peculiar feeling in the 
air, that I begin to notice, that makes me think 
this is what they call earthquake weather.” 

Monsieur Bob begins to appear in his true 
colors again; these dreadful possibilities, in- 
stead of conquering him, make all that is 
manly rise to the surface. 

“The situation is desperate, but there is no 
need of the others knowing it,” he says. 

“Not yet, at least,” replies Shackelford. 

“We can tell them that there is need of haste? 
as a storm may come upon us.” 


Monsieur Bob. 


345 


And our guides have deserted us.” 

“They’ll quickly discover that.” 

“One thing, comrade; don’t forget that 
eyes will be upon us that will read an^^ anxiety 
on our faces. Appear careless, if you can.” 

“Certainly; come, we must to work. Who 
knows but the loss of even a minute may send 
us to a horrible doom.” 

“A last word: I believe we shall come face 
to face with these enemies before we are done. 
Revenge would be a poor apology to an Ital- 
ian unless he could see the agony he has 
brought.” 

“You may be right.” 

“Therefore, trust in providence and keep 
your powder dry.” 

That old maxim of the Puritans has never 
been improved upon. They return to the 
others, and it is Bob who announces the flight 
of the guides as nonchalantly as possible, and 
declares that they had better be moving. 

In spite of his assumed cheery manner the 
others seem to guess something of the truth. 
A wet blanket placed over a fire would illus- 
trate the manner in which their gaiety is 
brought to an end. Perhaps the peculiar, 
heavy feeling in the air, of which Shackelford 
has already made mention, begins to make 
itself felt by the rest of the party. 

Under Bob’s directions they are soon in 


346 


Monsieur Bob. 


readiness to leave the spot, which will ever be 
remembered as associated with the happiest 
event of their lives. The consul has secured 
several photographs of them all, which at 
some future time may serve to freshen the 
scene in their minds, if that is necessary. 

One last glance Monsieur Bob casts around. 
He sees the smoking crater, the moaning sea, 
the black plain far below. Would to Heaven 
they were on this latter; it might be possible 
then to reach shelter before the night or the 
storm came upon them. Regrets at such a 
time are useless, however natural. It is fortu- 
nate that the unhappy party have with them 
such men as Bob Crane and Aleck Shackelford. 

At first the descent is comparatively easy, but 
they know it will not be like this long, remem- 
bering numerous places where in climbing up 
they met with trouble. 

Through the cracks the smoke oozes with a 
denser volume than before. Then it was pos- 
sible to hear the hissing, boiling noise only 
when the head was bent low, but to Bob’s un- 
easiness he can easily distinguish it while 
standing erect. Is there any terrible signif- 
icance in this thing ? A wave of horror sweeps 
over him at the bare thought of a night spent 
upon the black rocks of Vesuvius, with the old 
volcano boiling over, and streams of lava 


Monsieur Bob. 


34t 


rushing down the sides, surrounding them per- 
haps with a creeping death. 

The crater is now out of sight, as they begin 
to descend the steep, precipice-like face of the 
upper mountain. Lucky it is eayh lady has an 
escort, for alone few women could accomplish 
this feat. 

Since the destruction of Herculaneum and 
Pompeii in the year 79 A. D. there have been 
nearly fifty known eruptions of Vesuvius, 
some of which have been terrible. During the 
five centuries lying between 1100 and 1600 
the volcano near Naples remained almost 
dead, but at this time Mt. Etna was in an 
active state, and served as an outlet for the 
subterranean fires. 

In 1862 occurred an eruption causing an im- 
mense loss in life and property, and which has 
not yet faded from the minds of those who 
witnessed the sight and lived to tell it. 

Recently signs have not been lacking to indi- 
cate another eruptive period to be drawing 
near, though, as is usually the case, those who 
ought to know better delude themselves with 
the idea that like other alarms, this may be a 
false one. 

Both Shackelford and Crane are ready to ad- 
mit that it has been the mistake of their lives 
to undertake this mad venture; they will 
never forgive themselves for planning such a 


348 


Monsieur Bob. 


thing; but at the same time that is no reason 
they should not strive to save themselves and 
those who share their danger; in fact it is an 
additional incentive to spur them on to ac- 
complish deeds that ordinary men might draw 
back from even attempting. 

Every yard of blackened rock they descend 
gives them new hope. The air seems to grow 
purer the further they draw away from that 
awful crater, where the elements in the earth’s 
center war with each other, boiling and bub- 
bling, to occasionally burst from all restraint 
and overleap the funnel of Vesuvius. 

Monsieur Bob notes this fact and gloats over 
it in secret. His hopes actually begin to grow 
stronger, though he has never despaired, not 
being built that way. 

It is not long before they reach a place where 
the route has led up a ladder that lies against 
a wall of smooth rock, which otherwise could 
not be scaled. A cry arises. 

‘‘The ladder is gone! ” 

The treacherous guides have, as they be- 
lieved, closed the trap by removing the ladder, 
after descending themselves. With exclama- 
tions of dismay the tourists line the edge of 
the precipice and look down. Twenty feet lie 
between them and the base below. It might 
as well be eighty for all the ladies can reach it. 
Shackelford and Bob consult. 


Monsieur Bob. 


349 


“I see the ladder sticking out from behind 
those loose rocks,” declares the taller, point- 
ing, and, although a dark fog has crept up 
suddenh" from the sea, the captain has good 
eyes and can make it out, too. 

“That simplifies matters. Take off your 
coat, Bob, for I see those rascals have car- 
ried awaj' the rope with them.” 

Bob obeys, and the dominie, seeing what is 
up, hands over his outer garment. With some 
bits of cord Shackleford splices these coats to- 
gether by the arms, forming a rude rope some 
ten feet in length. 

This done he thrusts one end of it into Bob^s 
hands and clambers over the edge of the de- 
scent. Tt slopes a little, so that all of his 
weight does not hang upon the coats. 

In a minute he is hanging from the extreme 
end; nothing has given away, and his feet are 
not more than a yard from the bottom. He 
drops; there is a scrambling sound as he 
plunges down the face of the rock; he lands in 
a heap, springs to his. feet, draws the ladder 
from its place of concealment, and, with all 
his strength rears it against the wall ; then 
Bob’s hand clutches it, and the difficulty has 
been bridged. F'ortunate, indeed, will they be 
if the troubles that hang over their near future 
can be brushed aside as easily. 

One by one the party descend. There is no 


350 


Monsieur Bob. 


time for ceremony now, and whoever is near- 
est the ladder goes down. Bob steadies it 
until all are safe below; then he follows suit. 

The tourists havealready started downward 
again, for he has called to them not to wait. 
It is a ticklish job descendingthat ladder with- 
out some strong hand above, especially when 
the side of the mountain seems unsteady. Per- 
haps it is the slipping of the ladder he feels, 
but Bob has an idea the rocks are trembling as 
though in the premonitory symptoms of a 
convulsion. 

He arrives safeh^ at the bottom, to find that 
after all one has remained behind ; the hands 
of love have been upon the ladder, for Nina, 
his own dearly beloved wife, has waited. How 
pleasant is the thought that now they belong 
to each other, in life or death, adversity or 
prosperit\^, for time and eternity. 

Arm in arm they follow the others, nor can 
they fail to note with alarm how dark it has 
suddenH become. The day is old, to begin 
with, and clouds have obscured the sky that 
was so bright and smiling while the wedding 
on old Vesuvius was going on. To add to it 
all, this strange bank of fog, which has swept 
along the coast so suddenly, envelopes them 
in its damp folds, and has already blotted out 
ever}^ object in the lower region which they are 
yearning to reach. 


Monsieur Bob. 


351 


The situation is enough in itself to fill one’s 
soul with horror, and the ladies would be ap- 
palled only for the brave hearts beside them, 
and on which they have already learned to 
rely. 

Under such circumstances it stands to rea- 
son that their progress is slow. The route is 
dangerous, and the dark curtains drawing 
closer around them shut out what little light 
they have received. 

A weird glow hangs over the crater above — 
it is the only thing they can with distinctness 
see, and of course is the least reassuring of all, 
since it is an object they dread. 

Are there others upon this bleak mountain 
side? Shackelford is ready to declare that 
once or twice he has heard voices below. Per- 
haps their guides have found their progress re- 
tarded by the sweeping mist and strange 
gloom. They may even have become lost; 
stranger things than that have happened with- 
in the experience of Shackelford, who does not 
place much dependence upon this class of men 
as a general rule, although on this occasion he 
confesses he has been foolishly blind. 

All the same he waits for Bob, and lets him 
know what he has heard. If the desperate 
men they have arrayed against them want to 
meet the little party with hostile intent, even 
in the midst of this appalling darkness, they 


362 


Monsieur Bob. 


will accommodate them. It is to be hoped, 
however, that such a collision may not take 
place, for here are four ladies along, and bullets 
have a faculty for finding the innocent in af- 
fairs of this sort. 

Never in all their lives have the two com- 
rades ever come so near despair as on this 
occasion. It seems to them that their whole 
lives have led up to this hour; that a grand 
climax is about to take place. Will it be the 
finale of their existence, the death of the bright 
hopes of a sweet future to be spent in the so- 
ciety of those they love? Having won, will 
fate cheat them out of wearing the jewels they 
have fought so desperately for? 

God alone knows. 

Morning, if it ever comes, will either find 
them safe, or else look upon their doom. 

No wonder they strive to overcome the ter- 
rible difficulties in their way. Who would not 
fight for life when it holds such pleasant pros- 
pects ahead ? 

Bob Crane looks back and shudders to re- 
member how a young friend of his met death 
in a storm on Lake Alichigan when on his wed- 
ding trip, the ill-fated propeller go- 

ing down with every soul on board. When 
danger’s hand beginsto cast an ominous shad- 
ow it is strange how all such things begin to 
flash vividly before the mind. He brushes 


Monsieur Bob. 


353 


them to one side as though they are mocking 
imps delighting in his torture, applying him- 
self with grim determination to the task before 
him. 

They must be saved. Death at this supreme 
hour of life would be too cruel. 

He hears Shackelford’s warning concerning 
the possible presence of others near by, and 
grits his teeth with almost savage satisfaction 
at the thought of meeting those to whom 
something of this trouble is due. 

Ricocco Morisini seeks a terrible revenge, 
does he? Perhaps he is at home upon this 
black-rocked mountain, this mighty vent of a 
world’s internal fires. He may know secret 
paths which shorten distances ; yes, it is even 
possible he may be able to devise means which 
will further delay their downward progress, 
perhaps prevent them from escape until the sea 
of molten lava bubbles over the crater’s bor- 
der and comes leaping and tossing down upon 
them like fires of Hades. 

The thought is agony to this brave soul ; he 
i presses Nina nearer his breast, and with diffi- 
j cultA'^ keeps back a groan of mental anguish. 

I It must not be. Heaven has been kind in the 
I past, and perhaps the sweet little cherubs aloft 
I that all sailors believe in, may continue to 
; watch over and guide their fortunes, allowing 
them to reach a port of safety. 

23 


354 


AIonsieuk Bob. 


People age fast when the mind is racked by 
such terrible doubts and fears. Bob has an 
idea that if he lives through this night he will 
be as gray as Shackelford. Poor fellow! He 
does not yet dream of the horrors in store for 
the little party, beside which their present 
situation, desperate though it may seem, must 
sink into insignificance. 

They have shouted to each other from time 
to time — a cheery human voice does much 
under such distressing stirroundings to revive 
the drooping heart. 

Monsieur Bob hears other shouts besides, 
and they sound to his ear as though filled with 
mockery. He feels that the demons are laugh- 
ing at him. It is as though mad imps have 
come on from the steaming cracks in the black 
rocks to gloat over their misfortunes, and 
taunt their miser3^ 

Now these sound close at hand, and Bob’s 
hand steals toward his weapons as though he 
expects an immediate attack; anon they are 
further away, but always mocking in their 
tone. 

The ladies begin to show some signs of the 
fear that has wrestled with their hearts for 
half an hour. They watch the faces of their 
defenders more anxioush^ in the weird light 
which is their only mainstay, and hang upon 


Monsieur Bob. 


355 


their every word, as though seeking to find 
encouragement there. 

Bravely they bear up, though ; all are thank- 
ful for this fact. A nervous, fainting woman 
at a time like this might mean death to all. 

Something tells Bob they will soon meet the 
man whose shouts taunt them. Their prog- 
ress has been fairly good, and this, it cannot 
be doubted, displeases Morisiniand his friends, 
who have sworn an oath that these people 
shall never leave the rocks of Vesuvius again. 

The male members of the party are warned. 

Together they number six, but as the domi- 
nie is a man of peace, they do not depend on 
him, though perhaps he may readily defend 
the ladies, if it comes to that. 

Fortunately the American consul is armed, 
and as his life, together with others, is in dan- 
ger, he stands ready with true Yankee courage 
to fight like a tiger. 

As far as Monsieur Bob can decide, they 
have in this short hour descended about half 
of Vesuvius’ rugged sides. Whether the 
worst lies before them still or not, depends a 
great deal upon circumstances. At any rate 
one thing is certain, and it pleases them to 
realize that they no longer stand upon the 
thin crust near the crater, with that uneasy 
demon of chaotic fire under their feet. They 
breathe easier when the face of the scored 


356 


Monsieur Bob. 


rocks, blackened by previous eruptions, feels 
fairly cool to the hand. 

When Bob looks upward again he cannot 
fail to observe that the light above has grown 
stronger. Seen through the fog that steals up 
the mountain higher than ever known before, 
its strange appearance is doubl3^ marked. 
Somehow all other dangers pale into insignifi- 
cance when compared with the one that 
threatens them from old mother earth herself. 

Where will they meet the enemy ? In this 
semi-gloom the others may even lie in ambush, 
and fall upon them unexpectedly. To guard 
against this is the design of Bob Crane, and 
he keeps the situation fully in mind. He no 
longer follows, but has taken his rightful place 
as leader. Between Abdul Medshid and the 
dominie his wife is well looked after. 

Suddenly, from the darkness below sounds a 
human voice. 

“ Monsieur Bob ! it rings out. 

He is not deceived; though some of the 
.others give exclamations of joy and speak of 
a rescue, the man from Chicago has detected 
the notes of deep hatred in that tone. 

“ Who calls ? ” he sends downward. 

There wells up a laugh — a cold, fiendish 
laugh that would freeze the blood of a timid 
soul. 

“Ah! You are there?’' cries the voice in 


Monsieur Bob. 


357 


French, ‘^you and therestof your dear friends ? 
Well, that is all the farther you will come.’’ 

“ Is that you, Morisini ? ’’the American calls. 

“You have said it. I have come from Al- 
giers for revenge. This night gluts me.” 

Monsieur Bob, for the sake of the dear little 
w^oman so precious to him, makes one appeal. 

“Morisini, you no doubt call yourself a 
brave man. Prove it now. Help us as a party 
to escape the terrible doom that threatens. On 
my part, as it is myself you hate, I solemnly 
promise to give you satisfaction, to fight you 
when and where you will, with sword, pistol 
or gatling gun. It is to save the lives of these 
ladies I ask this favor.” 

There comes an immediate reply up the nar- 
row canyon through which the path leads; 
the only way of passing up or down. 

“Monsieur Bob, I refuse for several reasons. 
A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. 
You are an expert with sword and pistol ; you 
might destroy me ; then where is my revenge ? 
Again, 3^ our friend, the English baboon, has 
stolen my Nanette. At least I hoped to make 
her mine some day. Now she is lost. I hate 
3^ou all. Others are with me who will laugh 
to see death fall upon 3"ou all. Call to me for 
no merc3^ There is only one chance left.” 

“Well, what is that?” asks Bob, coolly, as 
this monster in human form ceases to speak. 


358 


Monsieur Bob. 


^‘Here is an avenue; at the end we lie in 
wait with drawn weapons ; death hovers 
over. If so be you are not cowards, advance 
along this path and meet us. We will warml3^ 
welcome you, Monsieur Bob, the brave cham- 
pion of all womankind in distress. Hi, there,, 
modern Don Quixote, place your lance in rest,, 
and charge the wind-mill ahead ! ” 

How sarcastic his words! They set Bob 
Crane’s Blood on fire. He realizes the fact 
that with these men holding the single avenue 
of escape, there is no hope for him. A chal- 
lenge seldom goes unaccepted by this daring 
man ; even while the Italian still hurls his 
mocking words through the cut in the rocks^ 
Bob has drawn both of his revolvers. 

It is a situation the like of which he has 
never before known in all his life ; a time when 
action depends more upon the impulse of the 
moment than with the result of reason. 

Monsieur Bob forgets that he has compan- 
ions at his back. He even seems to have lost 
track of the fact that Nina, whom he loves 
better than all else on earth, is here, and only 
remembers the presence of his enemies below. 

He utters something beneath his breath. 
Nina gives a cry of mortal pain, for she sees 
this young giant who has wound her life 
around his heart make a sudden rush between 
the jaws of black rock. In the ever increasing 


Monsieur Bob. 


359 


light she can watch him advancing with great 
strides toward the point where it is certain 
vlorisini, Achmed, el-Gaber, and Heaven alone 
knows how many other desperadoes, lie in 
wait to receive him. 

“Aleck! Do not let him go alone!” she 
gasps. 

Shackelford tip to this second has not real- 
ized what Bob has done. Now he sees the re- 
treating figure, and his’ brave heart beats in 
full sympathy with his impulsive friend. 

“Doctor Carter, remain with the ladies; the 
rest draw and follow me. We’ll see who 
wins ! ” 

With this the soldier springs into the open- 
ing. The others areat his heels — even Camper- 
town, full of fire at the prospect of battle. 
Upon the heavy atmosphere bursts the sound 
of sudden firing ahead. Monsieur Bob has 
doubtless dashed into the midst of his foes 
with the fury of a western cyclone. 

One moment the confusion of battle is plainly 
heard, and then the puny efforts of man are 
drowned in a sullen rumble as of mighty thun- 
der. The mountain quakes under their feet as 
though they stand on a quagmire. The sky 
is lighted up with a ghastl3% yellow glow that 
seems to bespeak the doom of the universe. 
Awful internal sounds jar upon the ear and 
benumb the faculties. 


360 


Monsieur Bob. 


Shackelford halts half-way through the pas- 
sage — halts as though paralyzed. This awful 
combination of infernal sounds is not new to 
him. Far below he hears the shrieks of hun- 
dreds, rushing madly from their homes. Look- 
ing upward he sees a sight never to be forgot- 
ten — a sight that the people of doomed Pom- 
peii last looked upon ere death walled them in. 
Flames shooting toward the leaden sky. Boil- 
ing, molten lava rolling over the edge of the 
crater. The fires of Hades broken loose ! 

The dreaded eruption has come. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


'‘ all's well that ends well." 

Captain Shackelford recognizes the frightful 
position in which his party is placed. He is 
horrified, butnot paralyzed, by the tremendous 
event that has taken place. 

His first thought is of his wife and those 
who are with her, and the inclination comes 
to rush back and rescue them from the awful 
doom that threatens. Then he remembers 
Bob, and how his dut3^ lies in that direction. 

All signs of battle have died awa^^ when old 
Vesuvius enters into the affair; human pas- 
sions can hardly war when nature takes her 
tury). He puts all his power into one shout, 
that rings along the rocky pass, and must 
surely reach the ears intended for it. 

" Campertown, bring the ladies down ! " 
Then, while the roaring and hissing still 
continue in an almost deafening manner at the 
crater, showing that the internal fires have 
again leaped beyond all bounds, this brave 
man dashes on to find Bob. 

He reaches the termination of the little pass. 

361 


362 


Monsieur Bob. 


and rushes out upon the open. Here, by the 
light given forth by the voleanie fires, he looks 
upon a seene he will not soon forget. 

Monsieur Bob is on deek. He has met his 
foes alone and single handed, and lives to tell 
the tale. Several men are seen hastening down 
toward the roeky plain below, one at least 
limping painfully,' as though wounded. In full 
sight two others are struggling. Even as 
Shaekelford rushes out one snatehes a weapon 
from the other and hurls it with a ringing 
elatter far down the ineline. Then he presses 
his disarmed antagonist back with the ease of 
a trained gymnast engaged with an amateur. 
The captain sees at a glance that Monsieur 
Bob needs no assistance. 

Beg for your life, you hound, he hears the 
American shout with fury. 

Perhaps the fierce vindictive Italian has had 
the bravery taken out of him by the sudden 
and awful bursting out of Vesuvius. At any 
rate his vaunted courage has oozed from his 
finger tips, and with Bob’s hand upon his 
throat and death looking him in the face, he 
begs for his miserable life. 

This satisfies the American, who loathes a 
coward. With a fling he casts the wretched 
count away from him ; then, thinking better 
of his resolution, he springs forward and with 
a hearty kick starts the fellow after his fleeing 


Monsieur Bob. 


: 63r 

companions. Morisini does not offer to resent 
the indignity, but eagerly plunges on, calling 
piteously for the others to wait and not desert 
him. The events of the last few minutes have 
changed this man from a terror to a coward. 

Monsieur Bob whirls around; he has sud- 
denly remembered those in whose interest he 
made his bold dash. Shackelford is at his el- 
bow, and shouts out: 

You are not wounded, I hope. Bob? 

‘^Not seriously — but the others, man? 

“They come! “ 

His words are indeed true ; the others can 
be seen hastening through the peculiar little 
gorge. Delay means a horrible death ; indeed, 
with these living streams of hissing lava 
sweeping down to overwhelm them, it will be 
by an especial favor of Providence if they es- 
cape to tell the tale. 

All are speedily gathered in a knot, and both 
Bob and the soldier have found their own. 

“Forward ! “ comes the cry. 

They do not rush madh^ along, for Bob be- 
lieves they will run more risks from becoming 
lost than in any other way. If they can follow 
the regular trail their chances will be best, be- 
cause it has been selected on account of its 
general freedom from overflow during the pe- 
riodical eruptions. 

For all that they make good time. The base 


364 


Monsieur Bob. 


of Vesuvius proper is just below, when they 
will have a living chance. All that has saved 
them thus far is the fact that the brunt of the 
explosion and overflow has been in the other 
quarter, though at any minute it is liable to | 
change, and stones, almost red hot, fall over | 
them, bringing death even before the boiling | 
lava cuts off their escape by forming a river ! 
around them. 

The light continues to show them their way, 
which is one advantage, at least, but it is an 
unearthly glare that illuminates their path. 
All labor under the deepest excitement, and 
can never forget the night of terror, if so be 
the good Captain above allows them to escape 
from the dreadful calamity that has burst upon 
the country. 

Bob looks back nov/ and then with fear tug- 
ging at his heart. He knows how rapidly, 
like a miniature Niagara, the lava will come 
leaping down over the precipitous rocks when 
it does get a start, and his heart is in his throat, 
so to speak, as he strains his vision looking 
for this dreaded death doom. 

As 3"et it has not come, and they are close to 
the base, where a chance of safety will be given 
them even at the worst. 

No doubt all Naples is aroused and grouped 
upon the flat house tops, where flowers grow 
nnd ladies visually promenade, watching with 


Monsieur Bob. 


365 


keen interest this wonderful display of Nature’s 
fire-works, having little concern about it, and 
caring not that hundreds of their fellow be- 
ings are fleeing for life on one side of the vol- 
cano’s base, many of them destined to be over- 
whelmed in the raging streams of descending 
lava. 

‘‘At last!” shouts Bob, as he sees the de- 
serted buildings which the monks had erst- 
while occupied, just before them, at the base of 
the high cone. 

Of course all of them are out of breath and 
hard]3^ in a condition for a race, but with 
grim death in the rear people are apt to per- 
form deeds they have believed impossible. A 
fictitious strength is given even to the weak- 
est, and, once upon the plain, the party con- 
tinue their flight. 

Once again the rocks under their feet quiver 
in the gigantic throes that mark an earth- 
quake, while the crater vomits forth its fiery 
contents with a new fervor. 

When Monsieur Bob looks backward he has 
reason to be thankful, for they have left the 
mountain just in time. The boiling, bubbling 
streams now rush down in the route they have 
just come over, and had they been delayed ten 
minutes their doom must have been sealed. 
Nothing could have saved them. 

Nor are they safe yet, for these streams of 


366 


Monsieur Bob. 


lava will ran all over the plain, seeking a level ; 
they may be eut off at any minute, surrounded 
by the awful rivers, and lost. 

Already they can see one rolling billow 
•sweeping down to the left, following some old j 
channel, and effectually blocking their progress 
in that direction at least. Should a similar 
stream make its appearance on the right they 
will find themselves hemmed in entirely. 

This is likely to happen, for already Bob can 
see several bright lines upon the side of the vol- 
cano. These are small streams, which, when 
united, will form a torrent that can flow twice 
as fast as they can run. 

The scene is one that almost baffles descrip- 
tion, with old Vesuvius bellowing in their rear, 
sending out her fiery cohorts and sea of molten 
lava. They see nothing of the men with whom 
Bob was engaged ; probably they took an- 
other course, and ere this may have found 
themselves in the midst of a burning lake. 

On, on the fugitives press. The stream be- 
side them grows larger as it receives contribu- 
tions from various sources. It seems to leap 
into the air in places where obstructions are 
met. The atmosphere is heavy and impreg- 
nated with the strong odor of brimstone, as 
though it comes from the workshops of To- 
phet. 

Campertown has done nobly, and assists his 


Monsieur Bob. 


367 


-Nanette along with more power than one 
would believe he possessed. As he turns his 
head he gives a cry of horror that attracts the 
attention of the captain, who chances to be 
near. In an instant he too has fastened his 
eyes upon the fiery serpent that, with raised 
head, seems to be leaping after them. 

This is the second stream. It will pass them 
by on the other side, thus shutting them in. 
Should these two come together below, they 
will be hemmed in and escape cut off. 

Thus it will be seen that their situation is 
still a terrible one, although they are leaving 
the cone of the volcano behind. The plain 
slopes nearly two thousand feet in the two 
miles, and this descent allows the lava to drop 
down with a swift passage. It looks like the 
irresistible swoop of the hawk in the barnyard. 

Now the second stream flanks them. How 
fearfull3^ grand it rushes on! At the start 
there is the raised head of the yellow serpent. 
It leaps and splashes, rolling over all obstacles, 
fighting its way onward and downward, head- 
ing for the sea. 

Nina is the first one to give out — brave little 
woman that she is. Bob feels her hang a dead 
weight on his arm. He hurriedly glances down 
into her face and sees her smile in a wan sort 
of way. 

“Leave me, dear Bob; I can go no further. 


368 


Monsieur Bob. 


Save yourself, dear,” she says in his ear, but 
he laughs scornfully. 

“You forget we are husband and wife, 
Nina. We live or die together ! ” he cries. 

With that he sweeps her up in his embrace as 
though she were a child. Once before has he 
done the same thing, and she can remember 
her sensations as he handed her up through 
the narrow window in the wall of the Algerian 
mosque. 

The strong man does not fall behind even 
when thus burdened. Thank Heaven for those 
muscles of steel in this hour of need ! In his 
arms Nina feels safe. She cannot account for 
the peculiarly restful sensation that steals over 
her. Close, to this brave heart, what can 
harm her now ? Let old Vesuvius blaze and 
roar, let the rivers of lava hem them in, here is 
one who will find some means of overcoming 
the powers that be. 

Such confidence is certainly sublime, but it 
may be she overrates the abilities of the man 
she loves. When the finite mind battles with 
the dreadful in nature it has an adversary al- 
ways on the assault and never forced to a de- 
fense. 

Parallel the raging streams run, now ad- 
vancing, anon retreating. At times they are 
so close together that even brave Bob holds 
his breath in awe lest they unite their forces 


Monsieur Bob. 


369 


and pre veil t further flight. Thus amid mingled 
hopes and fears the party press on. 

While passing along the narrow isthmus 
that separates the glowing streams, the great- 
est caution is needed lest one of them trip and 
fall. To tumble headlong into this liquid fire 
would mean death instantaneousl3^ A more 
hideous fate coaid hardly be conceived. 

The hissing sound which arises is like the 
warning of a den of vipers. It comes from the 
molten lava seeking contact with the cooler 
rocks, where perhaps moisture lies. At any 
rate it adds to the sinister condition of affairs, 
and causes fresh alarm to creep through the 
hearts of the ladies. 

All this while they have been advancing in 
an almost direct line for the sea. Even did 
they desire to turn aside they cannot do so; 
their course is marked out, and they must 
walk in it to the end. 

Shackelford is a little anxious concerning the 
3"acht, for he knows that earthquakes and vol- 
canic eruptions are generally followed by a 
tidal wave. If they are fortunate enough to 
reach the yacht it will be well for them to 
stand out to sea until this affair is over. 

Can they gain the boat ? Bob has given or- 
ders for the 3"acht to lie at anchor off the base 
of the mountain. Unless the eruption has 
alarmed the captain, and caused him to set 

24 


370 


Monsieur Bob. 


eail, the jaunty little Skip-jack must be some- 
where near. 

A short time longer will settle the matter as 
to whether they must perish under the angry 
lashing of the raging voleano, or live to enjoy 
man 3' happy years together. 

Even now they ean faintly distinguish where 
the sea lies, though the fog still hangs heavily 
about. A doubW loud explosion draws the 
attention of every one to the crater, Has the 
whole crater blown up ? The air seems full of 
burning particles that rise and fall with grace- 
ful waves. 

‘‘The top of the cone has blown off. See the 
avalanche of lava rolling out ! It comes this 
way ! ’’ shouts the consul, in despair. 

If this overwhelming wave overtakes them 
ere they reach the water and embark, all is in- 
deed lost. Not one of them hardly dares to 
breath a hope, but they do not stand in dumb 
despair, and await the coming of their fate. 
A last determined rush forward is made. Bob 
leading the way with his precious burden. He 
shows no sign of breaking down, though only 
a giant of his build could carry Nina all this 
while. 

The sea is now before them. How dead and 
still it looks in the ghastly light. Instead of 
arousing enthusiasm in the minds of the half- 
crazed fugitives it appals them. As Shackel- 


Monsieur Bob. 


371 


ford has suspected, this dead calm will doubt- 
less be broken by a tremendous tidal wave 
that must bring dread ruin along the coast. 

They rush down to the edge of the rocks. 
What a horrible hissing, roaring sound that 
is, proceeding from the two separate streams 
of lava rolling into the water ! Dense clouds 
of steam arise, and a sickening odor fills the 
atmosphere about them. 

Monsieur Bob strains his eyes to catch a 
glimpse of his yacht. Everything depends up- 
on its presence, for that great wave of lava is 
rushing along beyond the base of the cone, 
and will soon overtake them. 

Thank God ! He sights a boat; yes, two of 
them, just off the shore. In unison the party 
raise their voices, and a mighty shout rolls 
down the slope over the devastated vineyards 
and is thrown out upon the water. 

The3^ are discovered. The boats dash to- 
ward the spot. Monsieur Bob surveys the 
scene with an outward coolness he does not 
feel. It is a race between the boats and the 
coming avalanche of fire. The boats will win, 
but ever3^ second is precious and not one must 
be lost. So, like a wise general he divides his 
forces and directs each soul which craft they 
are to board. 

They almost fall into the boats, such is their 
mad eagerness to get away ; then the sai 


372 


MoNSiKaK Bob. 


row like heroes. The wave of lava tumbles 
over the roeks ere the\^ have gone fifty feet. 
There is a horrid din, the water heaves, and 
the}^ ean see the shore no longer. 

Thankful for the preservation of their lives 
they hasten to the yacht. As a breeze starts 
up they head for Naples where the dominie 
and his two companions are landed. Then 
the Skip jack^ safe in harbor, awaits the tidal 
wave, escapes injury, and sails out upon the 
blue Mediterranean early in the morning. Old 
Vesuvius is still vomiting forth fire and brim- 
stone as the3^ sail away, headed for the Orient, 
and as Providence has so kindly watched over 
the fortunes of Monsieur Bob and his friends 
thus far, let us hope a life of quiet happiness 
lies before them, tranquil as the blue sea over 
which their yacht is now gliding. 


THE END. 


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